


New Worlds

by ElizabethWilde



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Get Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Control, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethWilde/pseuds/ElizabethWilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve likes Tony. Tony likes Steve. It should all be very, very simple - but life is rarely so straightforward, especially when one happens to be a superhero.</p><p>Likely to be long, rambling, and in progress for quite awhile. Settle in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with Chad Moore
> 
> This fic starts out pretty darn fluffy, but please heed the warnings. This fic will deal with rape, recovery, mind control, and other touchy topics. Please stay away if any of those things squick you. Additional warnings and pairings will be added to the main descriptions as we progress.

It was part of the image. He'd known that for a long time - decades, really, even if he hadn't been awake for many of them. Steve sighed and tried to smile politely as the man in front of him droned on and on about the bills he intended to put before Congress. It wasn't that Steve didn't care, precisely, but he hardly considered a party the appropriate venue for someone trying to curry political favor. //Reality's not on my side with this one.// As usual, he'd bowed to the wishes of his erstwhile handlers, donned a fancy suit that he'd been told was Armani and gone out into the fray to play politics.

On top of his general malaise at the prospect of the networking, there was the distraction he'd been fighting for what felt like an eternity. Tony Stark: son of Howard Stark, total ass, arrogant bastard, genius, playboy and... and Steve couldn't quite put his finger on it. He couldn't quite understand exactly why he couldn't get the other man out of his head. Or wouldn't let himself. It wasn't the first time he'd been so fixated on someone, and to his shame, that fixation had never been for Peggy. He'd cared for her, even found her attractive, but it hadn't ever been what it was supposed to be, what it should have been with someone so wonderful and smart and gorgeous.

Realizing he'd been zoning out entirely from the look on the man's face - //Senator?// Steve couldn't remember - he gave a shake of his head and apologized, "I'm sorry. It was a long day, and I'm afraid I'm not all-" The words cut off sharply when he caught a glimpse of a familiar face from across the room.

Having noticed Steve the moment he'd stepped into the room, Tony caught the other man's eye and raised his champagne flute in acknowledgement. It was strange seeing him again. The battle against Loki and the Chitauri seemed like a distant memory even though it had taken place not that long ago. Excusing himself from the middle of a rather tedious conversation, Tony crossed the room and deftly plucked another champagne glass from a waiter's tray. "Now this is a surprise," he commented, ignoring the man Steve had been talking to. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I try to be sociable," Steve answered. It took everything he'd learned touring as a useless figurehead to keep his "company smile" on and not look as rattled as he felt. That Tony Stark of all people affected him so much was a trial. He nodded toward the glasses in Tony's hand. "One for your date? I didn't see Pepper." He was fishing - and rather obviously so - but if he was honest with himself, Steve had wondered where things stood as soon as he watched Tony drive off with Bruce. They'd all gone their separate ways, and Tony and Bruce... it had seemed like there was something there, something that had left him itching to pick a fight in a way he hadn't experienced in a long time. 

"Oh, I'm stag tonight," Tony commented with a nonchalant wave of his champagne flute. "But I don't intend to go home alone," he added, leaning in conspiratorially. Wearing a cocky half-smile, Tony pressed the extra glass into Steve's hand. "These shindigs aren't really my thing, but I had to put in an appearance. Boring, really. But you, my friend,” he paused, stabbing a finger at Steve's chest, "have just made this night a lot more interesting." Tony slugged down his champagne, casting his eyes over the room as if searching for something interesting. His attention returned to Steve, and he suggested airily, "Want to blow this pizza stand and come back to my place? I can promise you a better time."

If Tony hadn't been steady on his feet and his eyes hadn't been perfectly clear - //and warm, and brown, and beautiful// - Steve would have thought that the other man was drunk out of his mind. He knew he must have looked like a deer in the headlights, struck by the uncomfortable thought that Tony had somehow read on his face the dreams he'd been having, the rampant fantasies he couldn't shake. 

Either offended by Tony's indifference or sensing the tension, Steve's temporary companion quickly made his excuses. Steve barely noticed. "Funny," he finally managed in a tone that was only mildly shaken. He even took a long sip of the champagne. Once again Steve found himself regretting the fact that getting drunk wasn't really an option. The alcohol was dry and almost sharp, the bubbles tickling his nose. At least it gave him something to do. "You don't look drunk, but if I'm the highlight of your evening... bad day?"

"Let's just say I'd find your company a little more stimulating than schmoozing old fogies in tuxes." As if he was overheard, Tony smiled and raised his glass to one of the dignitaries in salute. He spun on his heel and gave Steve a thoughtful glance. "If you'd rather hang around here looking as bored as you do, that's fine by me." Slugging back the remains of his champagne, Tony took a meaningful step away from Steve as if to leave. He found it remarkably easy to wind the other man up, and it gave him a perverse sort of pleasure to push Steve's buttons. 

"No! No, I... the company's nice," Steve allowed, hating himself for giving in so easily when he knew that Tony was just trying to make him say as much. Naive as he most certainly was in some senses, Steve wasn't stupid. He wasn't a genius like Tony but he wasn't a complete idiot either. "It just never seemed like I was your favorite guy to hang out with. You've got a lot more in common with Bruce." In fact as near as he could tell, they had nothing at all in common, which made it all the stranger that he couldn't really stand the thought of Tony walking away. The only problem was that if he stayed, Steve wasn't sure how to handle it. The absurd thought of asking Tony to dance struck him and was summarily dismissed as both stupid and ridiculous within moments. The very idea left Steve blushing, and he silently prayed that the dim lighting would hide that from Tony's gaze.

Now that was interesting, Tony mentally noted. He might have dismissed the warm flush as anger, but he knew better. Having gotten so thoroughly under Steve's skin had been effortless from the moment they'd met. Tony wasn't looking to butt heads in a public venue, but he could have a little fun. He returned his attention to Steve and tried his best not to grin too smugly. "Bruce and I might have a lot in common - we can talk tech specs till the sun goes down - but seeing as we might be working together again, I thought we - as in you and I - should try and get to know each other better." Tony spread his arms wide and shrugged in a gesture of harmless friendliness. "So, what do you say? Care to spend the evening with me?"

That actually made sense. Steve let some of the tension drain from his shoulders and favored Tony with a smile. "I'd like us to be friends, so... let's go." Making friends with Tony would go a long way toward feeling like a real leader for the team. He'd felt strange being put in the position, but Fury had been insistent. He was the military man and certainly the most disciplined and loyal of the Avengers. That meant he was leader material whether he felt like it or not. As Nick had bluntly put it, "Knowing how to set up an iPhone doesn't have shit to do with leading a team."

Steve set his glass of champagne - now mostly empty - onto the tray of a passing waiter. "Do you have a plan for our escape? I caught a cab here."

Tony flashed Steve a winning smile. He mentally gave himself a scoring point as he gestured toward the exit. "My car's parked right outside," he said, leading the way through the crowd. Tony smiled and nodded at faces who recognized him all the while anxious to leave the building. Outside the air was crisp and cool, making a refreshing change from the stuffy atmosphere within. The valet snapped to attention and wasted no time in driving Tony's car around. Giving the young man a generous tip from the Iron Man himself, Tony jumped into the driver's seat. "You coming, Cap?" he called to Steve.

"Right behind you." Steve climbed into the passenger seat and got comfortable - which wasn't hard considering that the car, like everything else Tony Stark owned, was the best that money could buy. The leather seat fit like a glove, and Steve found himself reflecting on the benefits of being a billionaire. "Nice ride," he allowed with a smile as he looked over the sleek interior. So what did a billionaire playboy genius do when he wasn’t picking up women or buying fancy cars? "Where to?"

"I thought we'd head back to my place," Tony replied airily. "Show you around a little, well... really, I thought I'd show off a lot." He could be quite shameless when it came to flaunting his wealth and genius, and he enjoyed the idea of trying to impress Steve. Tony mentally patted himself on the back for achieving a win in getting Steve to leave the party. He awarded himself an extra point for the awe Steve conveyed over his car. "Look at you smiling over there," Tony noted with a hint of smugness. "See, you're having a better time already."

As much as he would have liked to debate the issue or disagree, he couldn't. The truth was that Steve was having more fun in the few minutes since they left than he had the whole party. It was strange zipping away in a fancy car while wearing a tuxedo with a guy he could barely get along with, but it wasn't bad. Steve allowed himself to look over at the man next to him, appreciating for a brief moment the fact that Tony really could pull himself together well when he tried - or, rather, Pepper could pull him together. Or Jarvis. When he caught Tony's eye, Steve felt flustered, caught looking, "Nice tux," he complimented lamely.

"Thanks for noticing," Tony replied, flashing Steve a half-grin. "You don't look so bad yourself there, Cap." One hand let go of the wheel to reach across and give a gentle tug to the other man's lapel. "As a matter of fact, you clean up nicely. You should go with this look more often." Returning his attention to the road ahead, Tony smiled to himself over the way Steve flushed. Being able to get to him so easily was turning out to be Tony's favorite pastime. Sparks had flown from the instant they'd met, which tended to happen when two alpha males vied for seniority. No doubt S.H.E.I.L.D. would rope them into duty again, so it was probably for the best that he and Steve found some common ground. 

As the silence stretched out and Steve tried to control the fact that he was blushing like an idiot in the wake of Tony's brief, simple gesture of attention, Steve finally found his voice, "You know, I admire you. Not... not all this," he waved a hand to the car around them, "but your confidence. Whatever you do, whatever happens, it's like it was always planned that way. Like you saw it coming and you were ready before it even thought about happening. It reminds me of your father."

Tony had often been compared to his father, especially the older he got. Sometimes he didn't know whether to take it as a compliment or to be offended. Hearing Steve admit that he genuinely held admiration for him brought a smile to Tony's face. Deciding to yank Steve's chain a little more, Tony remarked with mock seriousness, "So, are you saying I'm the 'daddy' type?" He wondered what kind of reaction that would elicit from the other man, who still seemed naive about the ways of the modern world.

For once Steve was thankful that he was missing something. There was obviously more to the reference than the obvious given the smirk on Tony's face, but he had no idea what the man was getting at. He settled for an uncertain shake of his head and ventured carefully, "I just think you got some of the best parts of him." It wasn't a new thing for Tony to take advantage of the fact that he'd missed more than a little slang and even more cultural references during his long entombment. One of the reasons Steve found it so difficult to be at ease around him was a feeling of constantly walking on eggshells trying not to say anything too painfully stupid, to not expose his ignorance. Of all the Avengers Tony tended to be the hardest to convince that he had worth as a leader - and how was he supposed to be a good leader when sometimes he felt like he didn't even know how to be a person in the strange, new world?

Deciding that he had probably teased Steve more than enough, Tony smiled and thanked the other man for the compliment. "You know, we're really going to have to see about getting you better acclimated to the 21st century," he decided, pulling off onto a road next to the coast. "I wouldn't mind teaching you a thing or two if you're willing to learn from me." The drive wound its way toward the Stark mansion which faced the roaring waves of the ocean. "It's a bit much," he conceded before Steve could remark on the home, “but it suits me just fine."

It was funny, but the house struck Steve immediately as being reminiscent of the "homes of the future" he'd seen illustrated in magazines. "It's beautiful." It was a bit much, though, and honestly not to Steve's taste, but he would never have said as much. He was a guest, and the place was meant to suit Tony, not him - and it did that perfectly. A little over the top, sleek, sexy - Steve cut the thought off before he could let it solidify. "I wouldn't mind some pop culture lessons," he allowed. "I'm getting better, but there's only so much a guy can read and watch and absorb at a time. It can be kind of overwhelming." He'd started with history, trudging through volumes on politics and the heartbreaking losses suffered in Korea and Vietnam, painfully aware that he could have done something if he'd just been there. "Might be nice having somebody to get me started."

"Alright, it's a deal then," Tony agreed, parking his expensive sports car. "You know what that means, don't you? You're going to owe me one." He smiled and clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder, noting the mass of coiled muscle beneath his palm. "Don't worry - your undying admiration will suffice." Stepping out of the vehicle, Tony joined Steve on the other side and led him into the house. Almost at once Jarvis' voice welcomed him home and acknowledged Steve as well. "Make yourself at home while I slip into something a little more comfortable." Tony paused, regarding the other man thoughtfully for a moment. "Care to borrow some of my clothes? If you want to shed that monkey suit, you're more than welcome to."

"If you don't mind, that would be great. Thank you," Steve answered after a moment's hesitation. He had no idea whether anything Tony owned would actually fit him, but it sounded better than trying to spend a casual evening sitting around in a tux. Frankly he hated wearing the thing to begin with. "Anything you have would be fine." Uncertain, he followed the other man as he headed to a room toward the back of his house. "It has to be better than this. I feel like I'm dressed up to go to a funeral."

"So long as it's not your own, I think you're fine," Tony quipped, the overhead lights illuminating his bedroom the moment he stepped inside. He quickly threw open the closet doors and began selecting something more comfortable for Steve. "This might just fit you," he decided, offering Steve a black T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. Tony handed over the articles of clothing, giving the other man what seemed like a careful examination. "With all those muscles you might stretch them out," he decided, "so if you want to keep these, you're welcome to them."

Steve ducked his head at the intense scrutiny. "Uh, thanks. I appreciate it." When Tony finally started looking for something for himself, he carefully began stripping away the tux and starched white shirt. Changing in front of other guys was certainly nothing new, though it felt decidedly more intimate doing the changing in Tony Stark's bedroom. True to Tony's prediction, the sweatpants did fit, but they were skin tight, and so was the shirt. He frankly felt ridiculous, but it had been nice of Tony to find something for him, and Steve was nothing if not polite. "So when the Tower opens up, will you be moving in with us?" Avengers Tower - formerly Stark Tower - was almost finished being refitted as the official team headquarters. Most of them were planning to stay in the suites there at least most of the time. Tony was another story. Steve knew that being part of the team alone was a stretch for him.

Tony watched Steve in the bedroom mirror as he changed into a T-shirt himself and tugged on a pair of sleep pants. He wasn't planning on going out again, and if he was going to be entertaining tonight, he wanted to feel comfortable. "Well, I'm not exactly one for sharing my personal space," Tony replied, noting how paradoxical that sounded now that he'd given Steve his clothes. "I'm sure you'll see me around there from time to time." Turning, his gaze lingered on the other man. Tony could not help being impressed with the view. Not only was Steve a perfect physical specimen, he was so handsome it was almost painful to look at him. For the first time in a long time Tony Stark found himself simultaneously intimidated by and attracted to someone. Feeling a little flustered over the notion, he cleared his throat and steered his guest out of the bedroom. "Those lessons we were talking about?" //Subject change. Nice segue.// "Where would you like to start?"

"Well, Clint got me an iPod," Steve offered. The thing had been the bane of his existence for a few days, but once he got used to it, having a strange variety of music at his disposal had been kind of nice. "The Beatles, Abba, Black Sabbath, uh... lots of things. So I'm getting better with that. Maybe movies or television?" Natasha had surprised him one day with a pile of DVDs featuring movies that he'd seen once upon a time in the theater and then spent the better part of an hour patiently explaining the system to him. He'd been so touched by the unexpected gesture that he'd come dangerously close to hugging the woman. Thankfully he'd thought better of it and simply thanked her effusively instead.

"This is a good place to start," Tony decided, picking up a copy of Entertainment Weekly off the coffee table. "We'll get you a subscription and you can keep up on the ever changing face of pop culture." He flopped down on the sofa, propping his feet up as he continued to regard Steve thoughtfully. There was a great deal about the other man he didn't know. Personal things. And Tony wondered how willing Steve would be to open up to him. "Have you dated any since you were unthawed?" Blunt and direct had always been Tony Stark's style. "Any one special you might be interested in, Cap?"

Steve sat down tentatively on the other end of the sofa and swallowed. "Uh, no. I haven't dated... uh, a lot." //At all,// he added silently to himself. By the time he'd had much of a chance with anyone, the opportunity hadn't been there anymore. There had been Peggy, but the second they found their common ground he'd ended up on ice for far too long. A tantalizing snippet of last night's feature dream played itself back inside his head and Steve blushed yet again. He was starting to think he'd never manage to spend more than five minutes with Tony without looking like a tomato. "No one special. We can't all be as lucky as you are with Pepper."

Tony nodded, taking in Steve's expression, mannerisms and the way his skin flushed warmly. The temptation to tease the other man even further proved impossible to ignore. "Well, that's a shame," he decided, giving Steve a friendly nudge, "great-looking guy like you going to waste. Doesn't seem right to me." Shifting closer, Tony's dark eyes burned as he added conversationally, "Pepper and I have what I'd call an open relationship." He noted the frown which shadowed Steve's gaze. //Time to elaborate and gauge his reaction.// "Neither one of us minds if the other takes an interest in someone else."

Steve's eyes widened, but he had enough sense to process the words for a few moments before he finally ventured, "Oh. That's... new." He fell silent, working the idea over. It made sense for Tony, really, but he had a difficult time picturing Pepper agreeing to that. Then again, maybe it was the only way to make things work at all with Tony. The idea made him sad for reasons he didn't really want to delve into. "I don't think that... um, that's what I'm looking for. Not that it's bad, I mean, if it works for you," Steve added hurriedly, ever conscious of being polite to his host. "I just want somebody who cares about me. Just me. That's really the only way I know how to think about it." He couldn't help but wonder, and soon the question was spilling from his lips, "Does it happen often? Finding someone... uh... interesting?"

Steve had taken the bait and all Tony had to do was reel him in. "From time to time," he went on smoothly. "Does that surprise you? I can tell it does. I suppose someone with your old fashioned values would find the idea shocking." Tony smiled, enjoying teasing Steve far more than he was willing to admit. "We'll have to see that you broaden your horizons. I mean, I can understand how awkward it must be to feel out of sorts all the time." He continued to scrutinize the other man and decided to push the boat out a little further. "Since you hail from a more innocent time, mind if I ask you a personal question there, Cap? Are you still a virgin?"

That was most definitely a personal question. In fact Steve was fairly certain that it was personal enough to step over some sort of line well past personal. He almost refused to answer but thought better of it. He'd more or less just asked Tony if the man had slept with someone other than Pepper recently, and he'd answered without hesitation. Would it really be fair not to be just as honest? It seemed like Tony was trying to help and understand. That was a good thing for them as teammates and maybe even friends. 

Finally decided, Steve looked down, shrugged and answered, "Yeah. It's not weird where I come from, you know?" He looked up to check if Tony understood at all. "I wasn't married, I wasn't in love, so... it never happened." Tony could call him "old man" as often as he liked, but he'd just celebrated his twenty-fifth birthday if you happened not to count the years he'd spent buried in the ice. Steve was fighting hard not to feel weird about being a virgin. Once upon a time, that would have been considered a noble thing, the moral thing. "Things are so different now, it's hard to find somebody. Even if I did, there's not many people who get it." The painful truth was that Steve simply wasn't sure he could find that deep a connection with someone considering how few people really understand what he'd been through.

Tony realized he had probably pushed Steve a little too far. The playful banter had segued into something more serious than he'd intended. His smile became more understanding but no less charming. "It's no big deal. Really it's not." Getting on his feet, Tony strolled over to a tray of drinks and poured both himself and Steve something to take the sudden edge off the evening. "You'll find somebody special, fall in love and live happily ever after. Happens every day." He passed a drink to his guest before sinking back down on the couch beside him. "In the meantime, why don't you crash here tonight? I've got this great big place all to myself. Be nice to have some company for a change."

Surprised by the sudden, easy shift in Tony's demeanor, Steve took the drink gratefully even though it wouldn't do much to ease his nerves. "Thank you." He lifted the glass in silent salute before taking a sip. Though he was no connoisseur, it tasted like the good stuff. The burn going down was a slow, pleasant bloom. "I'd actually like that if you really don't mind." He'd taken up temporary housing at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, but it was a pretty lonely living. He preferred people. After going from the orphanage to a place with Bucky to the road with a huge entourage to the barracks, Steve was used to company. Being alone gave him too much time to think about things he didn't really want to think about. "Maybe we could try a movie out? Something you like. I trust you."

Tony arched an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised by Steve's show of faith. They were definitely making a lot of headway toward becoming solid teammates. Although he greatly enjoyed their abrasive, teasing relationship, Tony realized that the antagonism had to end. "Alright then, a movie it is," he agreed, tossing a sly wink in Steve's direction. "There's quite a nice selection to choose from, but I think I have something right up your street." The screen came to life and Tony settled back as a digitally remastered copy of a vintage Laurel and Hardy film began to play. "You up for some popcorn?" he asked, giving Steve a gentle nudge.

"Yeah, popcorn sounds good," Steve agreed. Naturally he rose to help Tony make it only to find that it was as simple as tossing a bag into the microwave. He still hadn't quite gotten used to them and food he attempted to prepare in his own tended to veer between burned and frozen. Soon they were settled on the couch in a surprisingly comfortable fashion, eating popcorn and enjoying the movie. It wasn't until he was settled next to Tony side by side that he realized just how long a day it had been. Somehow he'd never managed to get over the idea that he needed to do PT even when it didn't really change anything. His metabolism more or less took care of it all, but Steve still tended to get up early to run or work out. It felt right somehow and a lot more productive than just sitting in his apartment. Unfortunately with the party at the end of the day, Steve found himself drifting off as the images played themselves out across the screen. Before it registered fully just how tired he really was, Steve was asleep, his head falling onto Tony's shoulder as he slumped back on the cushions.


	2. Chapter 2

When Steve woke, the sun was shining in through the windows, and he felt warm and comfortable. He shifted and reached out to lay a hand on his pillow only to register that his pillow felt very, very strange. Blinking slowly to consciousness, Steve realized that his "pillow" happened to be Tony Stark's lap. He glanced up only to find Tony already awake and looking down at him. The soldier blushed at once and quickly sat up, scooting away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep on you like that..." Then again, Steve's mind finally registered, Tony didn't look mad. Amused, maybe, but not mad. "Sleep okay?"

The sound of the door interrupted any potential answers, and Pepper swept into the room with coffee and a bag that smelled of freshly-baked pastries. "JARVIS told me you boys had a sleepover," she informed them with a smile. "I thought you might need a little pick-me-up if you had a long night." She smiled at both men, pressing a kiss to Tony's cheek and greeting, "Good morning, Steve," before setting the items down on the table in front of them. "I'd stay and keep you company, but I'm afraid that somebody has to actually show up to Stark Industries meetings."

"Oh, you love it," Tony said, reaching for the bag of pastries. "You're never happier than when you're commanding a meeting." He passed a napkin to Steve, and then allowed him a chance to make a selection. "I'm thinking of letting my pal here," Tony indicated the other man with a nod, "move in for a while." Knowing full well the news would take Steve by surprise, Tony munched happily on a chocolate croissant. "I don't think Cap's too comfortable with S.H.E.I.L.D.'s accommodations," he told Pepper. "Plus, I made him a promise to help him get a little more settled into our bright and progressive twenty-first century."

Pepper smiled at the suggestion. "I think that would be a lovely idea. I can have someone help you get your things if you'd like, Steve?"

"Oh, no, I can... I mean..." Utterly flustered, Steve looked carefully at Tony. He was taken completely off guard by the suggestion, both pleased and worried about whether Tony would really keep wanting him there even if he thought he did. "I can get everything - there's not much - but are you sure?" The last thing he wanted was for Tony to start resenting him for being in the way. They'd had a great time together the night before even if the morning after had been a little awkward. He didn't want to mess it up.

"He's sure," Pepper broke in before Tony could answer. "He spends far too much time here alone. If you can get him out of that lab for even a few hours a day, it will be well worth it." Apparently satisfied, Pepper grabbed her briefcase from where she'd dropped it by the door and gave them a wave. "Have fun picking out a room!" she bid Steve before heading back out into the world.

Steve sat in stunned silent for a few moments before realizing he'd missed something very important. "Thank you."

Tony reached for another pastry, finding himself more hungry than usual. "We'll get you settled in and you'll be feeling at home in no time." He indicated one of the arches leading off to a hall with his coffee cup. "There's four guest bedrooms on this floor. Or, if you want to be closer to me, there's a couple upstairs."

"That would be nice if you don't mind," Steve answered before he could think better of it. Being close could be awkward. Then again, why move into the man's house if they weren't going to spend time together? Steve took a sip of his coffee and considered the strange shift as he started in on one of the other croissants. "I'll go get my stuff when we're done eating. There's not much." He hadn't had any real desire to acquire much despite Fury giving him a charge card and explaining carefully how to use it. He'd purchased clothes and gotten a few other essentials, but Steve was used to not having a lot, and he hadn't felt the need to change that. "Then maybe you could help me out with the computer? Director Fury got me a laptop and... it's... different." He frankly had no idea what to do with the thing despite everyone insisting he could do everything from play solitaire to read up on the news with it.

"Don't tell me you accidentally discovered porn?" Tony was only half-joking. After all, even typing in the most innocent words into a search engine could produce the most lascivious of images. "It can be a little tricky at first, but I have no doubt you'll get the hang of it." He finished his breakfast and drained the last drop from his coffee cup. "A shower's in order," Tony decided, straightening and getting up on his feet. "How about you?"

For a moment the image of Tony naked in the shower was so distracting that Steve forgot he was supposed to answer. "Oh. No. I'll get the boxes first." He was almost glad to have a reason to leave. It wasn't that he didn't trust himself, exactly, but he wasn't sure how to deal with Tony's teasing sometimes, and when his mind was already wandering to places he'd rather it didn't... Things were already complicated. If he didn't keep hold of his own feelings, they would only get worse. Steve buried his concerns in packing and notifying Director Fury of the change only to find that JARVIS had already done it for him. 

A quick cab ride later Steve was setting two boxes down just inside Tony's door. He realized belatedly that he should have asked Tony which room was best to take before he left, but he'd been so ready to make an exit that he'd completely forgotten. "Tony?" he called out tentatively.

Having enjoyed an extra long shower, Tony shut off the water and dried himself off with a fluffy towel. He wrapped it around his waist as he heard Steve calling his name. //Excellent timing,// he thought, smiling to himself. "That was quick," Tony said, nonchalantly strolling into the room. "Did you get everything?"

Steve stared. He couldn't stop. Until Tony raised an eyebrow and he realized that he was staring. Then he blushed, swallowed, and gestured vaguely to the box he'd left by the door. "I, uh, was just wondering what room you'd like me to take." //Don't stare. Don't stare.// Sure that he had himself back together again, Steve tried to smile casually. "Didn't mean to interrupt your shower."

"You didn't," Tony replied. He could feel the other man's eyes all over him despite Steve trying his damnedest not to make it obvious. "How about the room down the hall from mine?" Padding along the lush carpeted floors, Tony led his house guest toward the spare bedroom. He kept a firm grip on the towel around his waist and briefly contemplated simply dropping it in order to provoke a reaction out of Steve. "There's a gym downstairs next to the lab," he carried on. "I know how much you like to work those muscles."

Steve smiled but couldn't quite help blushing all over again. Tony was still wearing nothing but a towel, and Steve couldn't quite decide whether to look toward the man or away from him. He didn't know which was more conspicuous. "This looks perfect." The room was decorated in the tasteful, modern style that was the norm for Tony. Steve was surprised to find that instead of finding it foreign, he felt immediately at home in the space. 

"I'll get some things moved in and then... when you have a little time, maybe you can help me with the laptop? I know how to do some things, but I want to figure out how to look people up. Natasha said you could find pictures sometimes or just... things about them?" He'd honestly been too scared to dive too much into his own past before, but with Tony just next door it felt safer somehow.

"Hey, we had a deal, right?" Tony reminded him. "You'll find that I always keep my promises." He purposefully brushed against Steve as he leaned over and pushed a hand down onto the bed. "Nice and comfy," he said, grinning up at the other man. "I don't have many guests, but all the bedrooms have the same kind of mattresses I like to sleep on. Designed by myself, of course."

Steve's polite attempts not to ogle the other man were quickly derailed by Tony bending over in nothing but a towel. It was impossible to pretend that what he was feeling was anything but attraction. The thought was confusing on more than a few levels, so Steve settled for the best solution he could manage on short notice: distracting both of them. "I'm sure it'll be great. Hey, if you don't mind... someday... I'd love to see some family photos. Sound silly, but it's hard to picture Howard with a wife and a kid."

Tony tensed, glancing up at Steve and caught in a rare moment of being at a loss for words. "It is hard to picture," he eventually replied. "You won't find very many." Shaking off the sobering thoughts of his father, Tony reminded himself that Steve had actually known the man. "Anyway, I'm tired of holding this towel up, so I'll go and change while you get settled in here." With that, he turned on his heel and started out of the bedroom, but not before dropping the towel and offering Steve a shameless view of his departing backside.

Steve had been caught on the edge of reaching out for the man, of apologizing for hurting his feelings or bringing up a difficult topic. Instead he ended up standing frozen in the doorway with his mouth hanging open. It took several seconds to fully recover, and Steve was still bright red as he made his way back to the front door to retrieve his things. He had no idea how long Tony would be gone, but he was beginning to wonder if moving in was really the best thing. They barely got along as it was. How could some weird, inappropriate crush really help anything? It couldn't. It just gave Tony fodder to torture him, apparently. Steve wondered if he was that transparent or if Tony was just pushing buttons until he found out what got under his skin the fastest.

When Tony returned to Steve's room, he had changed into a fresh black T-shirt and a pair of sleep pants. He stepped inside and his gaze settled on the other man, deciding quickly that he had probably teased Steve enough for one day. Although Cap was an easy target, Tony found his naivete charming, and the two of them seemed to get along rather well when they weren't disagreeing. His eyes moved over Steve, taking in the way his borrowed clothes clung to his body. Tony felt a sharp rush of arousal at the enticing sight, and he once again found himself surprised over the effect Steve had on him. "Getting settled in?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. "I hope you're gonna be happy here with me."

"I think I'm gonna be," Steve answered, glad that the tension from earlier had diffused. He already had almost everything unpacked, his clothes hung in the closet and the few knick-knacks he'd acquired set out along with an old photo book. "Y'know, I don't think I've ever actually had a room this big. The apartment at SHIELD was nice, but this place... it's really something, Tony." He nodded toward the laptop that was set up on the desk next to the photo album and some file folders. "I understand a lot of it. I can find everything Clint bookmarked for me." Steve was proud of himself for remembering the proper term. It felt some days as if he was learning a whole new language. "I know you can look up people, though, find out more about them. Could you show me?"

Tony smiled, wriggled his finger for Steve to follow him, and sat down at the desk. "For starters, Google is your friend," he explained, setting Steve's home page for the web site. "Type in anything you want to search for, and..." Tony clicked some keys, "presto!" A page filled with links to various Iron Man pages came up, and Tony folded his arms across his chest and flashed a rather self-satisfied expression up at Steve. "Feel free to peruse any of these, my friend. No nudes of yours truly, but you might find a few fakes. There's sites out there for that kind of thing."

Steve tried hard not to look scandalized when it sunk in what kind of 'fakes' Tony meant. "Think I'll make do with something a little more, um, real." He chose one of the pages that boasted of being the biggest fan site on the web dedicated to Iron Man and Tony Stark. It opened with ancute animation of Iron Man flying across the page, and he couldn't help smiling. "Looks like they really are big fans." He selected the Photos link, expression studious. He navigated the page as if it took the utmost concentration to execute the task properly. On that page there were half a dozen categories, so Steve chose a section at random and began scrolling through the images. There were shots of Tony on magazine covers, a few taken out and about at various events and, at the bottom of the page, a small collection of older photos. Steve selected one that showed a young Tony cradled in the arms of a beautiful woman who shared his dark hair but had flashing green eyes. "Your mom? She was really pretty, Tony."

"Yes, she was," Tony agreed with a solemn nod. "Thank you for saying so." Pushing away memories he leaned over Steve, his arms reaching around the other man as he typed in another search. "I'm not the only one with fans." Links to Captain America websites sprang up, several of which Tony had taken the time to explore after meeting Steve. "There's pictures from the war," he explained, straightening and allowing Steve a chance to look for himself, "but mostly the propaganda films you did. Very nice." Tony grinned, adding, "You might be called back into service. In front of the cameras, I mean. The world could use some morale nowadays."

Steve groaned as one of the sites automatically began playing a clip from one of the old reels. "Fine, as long as there's no musical numbers." The whole thing had been embarrassing. Exciting at the time, yes, but in the end, he'd been a laughingstock to the people he'd always wanted to fight beside. He clicked randomly through the images only to stop short. The picture showed him posing with his shield and very little else. Steve swallowed and looked to Tony, wincing. "I guess this is what you meant? The, uh, the fake pictures? Jeez, I mean... we're people." It was one thing being a symbol for righteous justice in America but another thing entirely having people throw around pictures of him half naked that weren't even real. 

"It's not very good, is it?" Leaning forward again, Tony scrutinized the image on screen. "Your body's much better than that. Not that I've had much chance to see. After all, you do keep yourself covered up most of the time." He clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder, feeling the muscle underneath. Steve's Captain America uniform left very little to the imagination. Even when Tony had been his angriest with Steve, he couldn't help but notice the other man's scientifically altered physique. Steve Rogers had been transformed into not only a weapon, but the perfect man. "If you feel comfortable enough to walk around naked, you won't hear any arguments from me," he whispered close to his ear.

Steve wasn't sure if it was the words themselves or the fact that Tony was whispering in his ear, but Steve's breath caught. He couldn't turn his head because if he did Tony would be far, far too close. "Think I'll stick with clothes," he answered in a tone that was meant to be light and teasing but came out breathy and nervous instead. Logically he knew that Tony was just trying to get a rise out of him. The unfortunate part of that was just how well it was working. "Thanks for the help. Um, with the computer."

"No problem," Tony replied airily. He squeezed both of Steve's shoulders as he straightened again, behaving as if the sexual tension in the room wasn't stifling. "Like I said, you'll get the hang of it in no time." Tony smiled, adding, "It can become a little addictive at first, but, no worries, I'm always here to stage an intervention." Helping Steve meant a lot less teasing on Tony's part, but he couldn't help feeling a sense of pride knowing he would be such a big part of Steve's new life.

"Yeah, well, I can't get drunk or high, I don't gamble, we both know womanizing's not my thing... I should have some kind of vice, right? Picking fights isn't as good an idea anymore as it was when I was a kid." It was one thing getting beaten up for smarting off or calling someone out for being a jerk. Whaling on someone half your size when they didn't have enhanced strength and reflexes was a whole other ballgame. "You go get some sleep. Remember, your lady assigned me to keep you out of the lab sometimes." Crush or no, Steve was starting to think that maybe moving in with Tony wasn't such a bad idea after all.


	3. Chapter 3

It was dangerously hard to focus on what Tony was saying. He wore a casual, dark blazer with jeans and a white shirt that was unbuttoned just a bit too much. Just enough to be completely distracting. Steve sat in the front row - a privilege afforded to all of the Avengers, though he'd been the only one to take Tony up on the offer - of the Stark Symposium. Tony's speech was the kick off for a three day scientific binge of presentations of a very hardcore, very technical bent.

Steve couldn't even understand the techno-babble Tony was spouting even in the humor-laced introduction. It didn't matter. He'd been flattered to be asked to attend for the opening anyway, not to mention too speechless to say no when Tony had asked him. Tony had been fresh from bed wearing nothing but sleep pants and tousled hair. Steve had actually said yes before he was even quite sure what he was being asked. By the time he'd figured it out, Tony had already been instructing him on what time Happy would bring the car around to pick them up.

The crush was getting worse. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about it, about what it might mean and whether he should say anything. In the end, Steve came to the conclusion that it didn't matter. Tony was with Pepper no matter how "open" he said the relationship was, and they worked together on top of that. Add in being roommates and there was no real point in ruining the status quo. A more difficult thing was deciding whether he was okay with having a crush on a very male friend to begin with and after being both traumatized and comforted by what he'd read in the news articles he'd found, Steve finally decided that was fine too. There were thousands of terrible things going on at any given moment - someone having feelings for someone else wasn't one of them.

Steve shifted a little in his seat to force himself to pay attention and offered a flicker of a smile when Tony's gaze wandered in his direction. Maybe he didn't understand all of the concepts Tony was describing about renewable energy, but he still recognized that his friend was holding a room full of great minds rapt.

As he finished his speech, the room erupted in a roar of applause. Tony smiled, nodded and bowed to the assembled group. Was it his imagination, or was Steve clapping the loudest? Then, there came another sound. Barely perceptible, like the buzzing of a gnat. Too late Tony recognized the noise. It was a shot. From high above, the glittering chandelier snapped from its chain, plummeting down and pinning Tony.

Steve was on his feet in a heartbeat, his cry of alarm swallowed in the swell of shrieks from the crowd. He looked around, trying to spot where the shot might have come from and felt his knees go weak at the sight of a face that shouldn't have been there at all. It was gone as soon as it came, and Steve shook his head before rushing forward, vaulting onto the stage as though it was nothing. A security guard made to stop him only to recognize who Steve was and step aside instead. Two other men were already fighting to clear the heavy chandelier, but Steve hefted it away in seconds. 

He could hear Pepper's worried voice among the buzz of sounds behind him, but he couldn't bring himself to move aside to let her be the one crouching at Tony's side. Leaning in, he was relieved to feel Tony's breath stir against his cheek despite the harsh bloom of blood on his forehead. "Tony? C'mon, talk to me... I need you to wake up. Bruce isn't here, so you'll have to open your eyes for me instead." He reached for one of Tony's hands, squeezing it without thinking about how strange it might look to someone watching. All that mattered was Tony opening his eyes again.

"And why should Bruce be here?" Tony groaned as he began to stir. Every inch of his body hurt, and he moved his fingers reflexively in Steve's grasp. No bones broken as far as he could tell. A few cracked ribs, maybe. He hoped being buried under a mound of crystal hadn't punctured one of his lungs. Tony could already tell he was having difficulty breathing. His vision blurred, but he could just make out Steve's concerned features through fluttering eyelids. "Did the whole damned roof fall down on my head?" 

"Just part of it," Steve assured, feeling giddy with relief. He felt a touch on his shoulder and finally turned to see Pepper smiling kindly down at him. 

"There's an ambulance on the way. Tony, you should try to stay awake while we wait for it."

Steve watched in surprise as Pepper moved away to speak with some of the people standing worriedly on the sidelines and dismiss the remaining crowd. His forehead creased. Had something happened between Pepper and Tony? If they'd broken up, Tony certainly hadn't said anything. Of course, he never said anything about his personal life. Forcing that back for exploration at another time, Steve gently rubbed his thumb over Tony's palm instead. "You heard the lady, I need you to keep those eyes open. How are you feeling? You've got a nasty cut on your forehead, and your breathing sounds a little off..."

"I feel like... a chandelier... just fell... on me," Tony groaned sarcastically. He managed a quick glance at the broken crystal glittering around him, but sighing at the expense of replacing the expensive decor only hurt his aching chest. Swallowing hard, Tony couldn't help noticing how attached Steve had become to his hand. Despite his injuries, he felt a warm sensation of comfort rushing through him. "Did you... see what... happened?" he wheezed. "I thought... I heard a shot... from a high powered... rifle."

Steve nodded his agreement with the assessment. "I thought..." It sounded crazy even in his own head, and Steve hesitated before he actually voiced what could well have been a momentary hallucination. "I thought I saw somebody I knew... somebody who should be dead. But it doesn't make sense. Maybe just... the stress..." He shook his head and, noting Tony's fingers shifting beneath his own, loosened his grip slightly. "Sorry. Too hard?" It was easy in moments of genuine fear to lose track of the little things and how much he needed to compensate for his enhanced strength. "We'll find out what happened. You have security cameras around here, right?"

Slipping in and out of consciousness like the tide receding from the shore, Tony nodded slowly as he fought to concentrate on Steve's voice. "Yeah, cameras everywhere," he replied. "Pepper can show you... how to access them. You can even... view the footage on... your laptop." In the distance he could barely make out the sound of a siren. Tony despised hospitals, but he knew there was no getting out of it. He'd very nearly been killed. He was hurt, and he wasn't sure of the extent of his injuries. If the pain was anything to go by, it was serious. "Hey, are... you gonna be alright... without me?" Tony playfully asked Steve. "Dunno how long... I'll be away from home."

"I'm gonna miss you," Steve admitted earnestly, though he smiled down at Tony. "But, hey, Pepper and I can have a slumber party and do each other's nails." All too soon one of the paramedics was pushing him back out of the way - gently, politely, but pushing all the same. Steve reluctantly went along, hating the moment when he had to let go of Tony's hand. 

"He'll be fine," Pepper's voice assured from just behind him before her own hand slid into his. "He's survived worse."

Steve nodded his agreement, but it didn't do anything to ease the knot in his stomach at the sight of the EMTs checking Tony out and putting an oxygen mask over his mouth. 

"You should go with him." Seeing the protest already rising in Steve's expression, Pepper shook her head. "I need to be here cleaning up this mess and shooing off the press. Fury will be calling any second. Go with him. If he's going to be safe with anyone... Take care of him."

It didn't take any further urging. Steve followed the gurney as Tony was moved into the back of the ambulance. "Looks like you might not get rid of me that easy."

"You've just got to make... this difficult... don't you, Rogers?" Tony barely managed to tease. "How am I... supposed to get better... being distracted... by that handsome face of yours?" A faint grin quirked his lips, but he found even that simple action painful. His mind was filled with the possible candidates who wanted him dead. It had obviously been an assassination attempt, or at the very least, a message, but the purpose remained a mystery. "You know... whoever did this... could try again. I want you... to be careful."

"I know they could," Steve agreed, "and that's why I'm not letting you out of my sight." He had no idea which of Tony's enemies - or the Avengers' - might be behind the attack. "Pepper'll make sure they go over the security footage." He even had his phone with him, though Steve still found being attached to a virtual string at all times more than slightly invasive. Tony had picked the thing out, though, and even found an American flag case for it to try to make it more personal, so he carried the phone and tried to keep it charged. Suddenly he felt glad for the habit since it meant Pepper could get in touch with him whenever she found something and vice versa. "We'll find whoever did this. I promise."

"We will," Tony agreed, emphasizing the first word. "I'm itching to... get my hands on... whoever did this." It took a lot to get Tony Stark angry. He usually handled an intense situation with a cutting quip or outwitting his adversaries. An unseen assailant with an unknown motive was something different. If he had the strength to crawl into his Iron Man suit, Tony would have done so the minute Steve had lifted the chandelier from his body. "Don't go... out on your... own," he wheezed a warning to Steve. "I'm not... getting left behind..."

Though Steve's first instinct was to point out that Tony was in absolutely no shape to be part of the mission, he nodded instead. "Alright." If they did go after someone who was targeting Tony, they wouldn't go alone anyway. Steve focused on the medics as they looked Tony over and took his vitals. One of the men explained calmly to them both that Tony appeared to have two cracked ribs but that they'd be confirming that with X-rays once they arrived at the hospital. 

Just as they pulled into the parking lot and began the trek in to get Tony a room, Steve's phone buzzed. He lifted the device up and slowly and deliberately brought up the message. Thanks to the phone's design and Tony's enhancements to it, the image Pepper had sent came through almost immediately, and Steve went pale all over again. "No..."

Tony heard the catch in Steve's voice, and he registered the blood draining out of the other man's face. "What... what is it?" He strained to see the image displayed on the phone, but only succeeded in making his current predicament that much worse. Tony groaned and let his aching head sink back. His brow remained furrowed between pain and concern as he prompted Steve, "Tell me... what did you see?"

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but a nurse held up a hand. "Not now. We need to get Mr. Stark in for an X-Ray. If you'll please wait for us here?" The woman's tone was polite but firm as she gestured to the waiting room. 

Though he wanted less than ever to be apart from Tony, Steve reluctantly agreed, nodding as he trudge over to a too-small, too-hard chair and sat down. He typed a quite note to Pepper to get the files from the top of his desk. Bucky's was at the top of the stack of those that he'd requested from Director Fury after joining the Avengers initiative. He'd wanted to see it all laid out, the lives of the people that he'd left behind and the ones who he'd lost even before that. He felt numb. The day had been too surreal. Tony was in the hospital and somehow Bucky was alive. Bucky, who he'd watched fall to his death decades before.

By the time a nurse came in to show him to Tony's room, Steve felt sick to his stomach. He'd ignored every call from Fury and only answered texts from Pepper. Still Steve forced a wan smile when he saw Tony stretched out on the bed. "Hey... how are you feeling?"

Having been given a series of painkillers while his broken body was tended, Tony was feeling more loopy than he cared to admit. He wasn't too out of it to notice that Steve had plastered on a smile, which to Tony spelled out trouble. "Pains meds are doing their job," he replied, lifting his hand to show the I.V. sticking in him. "You're not fooling anyone with that forced grin. I know what a real smile on the pretty face of yours looks like, and that ain't it." Tony tried to sit up, but it proved too much of an effort. Instead, he fixed Steve with a serious gaze. "Now, are you gonna tell me what's going on, or do I have to get up and find out for myself?"

"No... no, sit," Steve urged, already at the man's side and pressing a hand gently against his chest to keep him from doing himself any further harm. Realizing it was unnecessary and probably a bit too intimate, he quickly withdrew his hand and sank into the nearest chair. "Pepper got a good picture of the guy who tried to kill you. It was like he wanted to be seen... and..." He shook his head to clear it and held his phone up. He'd spent a lot of his time while waiting for Tony just staring at the image, sure that eventually his brain would come up with a really good explanation. "That's Bucky. I don't know how much of my file you looked through. He's... he was my best friend. He died. I saw... but he was there. That's him."

Tony listened intently even as the drugs pumping through his system threatened to steal his consciousness away. He had no reason to doubt Steve, even if his assertion that a dead man had tried to assassinate him was fantastic. "Okay, so your best friend is back from the dead and he's gunning for me." Tony set his jaw, mulling over the possibilities. "Jealousy issues? Otherwise, I can't even begin to imagine why I'm his target." He was only mildly teasing, hoping to lighten Steve's mood. It was abundantly clear the other man was deeply troubled over this development, and rightly so.

"No, he... Bucky would have liked you..." Steve knew that Tony was trying hard to bring the mood up and tried to let go of some of his worries, but it didn't work. It was too hard. "Tony, if they found... if someone found Bucky's body... could they have... have done something to him?" The man he knew would never have tried to hurt Tony or any of the Avengers. He would have been proud, or at least Steve liked to think so. He knew it was unfair even to ask such a thing when Tony was exhausted and hurt and probably wanted nothing more than to sleep, but as horrible as the idea of someone using Bucky's body to do evil things was, it was better than the thought of Bucky doing those things himself.

Tony struggled to remain lucid as the drugs tried to lull him to sleep. He needed to be sharp in order to help Steve, whom he'd never seen in such a state before. "Anything's possible," he replied, glancing up at the other man. If Steve could be frozen solid and revived, then it wasn't out of the realms of possibility that Bucky had also been revived. "We're working on too little here," Tony decided, his brow furrowing. "What we need to do is find out for certain. I'm not doubting you, Cap. If you say it's Bucky, then it's Bucky. We just have to know what we're dealing with first." He offered Steve what he hoped was an encouraging smile, and then added, "Tracking him down should be our first priority."

Steve shook his head firmly. "Watching over you is our first priority. Whatever Bucky's part in this is... if someone's after you, we have to make sure they don't get anywhere near you." Before Tony could protest, he added quietly, "I'll talk to Director Fury. He can bring in Clint and Natasha. If anyone can find out what's going on, it's them. I'm staying with you." He knew that Fury would have been happy to assign someone else to watch over Tony and nurse him through his recovery, to be his bodyguard for the duration of the healing, but Steve couldn't stand the idea of anyone else doing it. Somehow Bucky was responsible for what had happened to Tony, which meant that he was too. "Get some sleep. I'll be right here."

Tony couldn't help smiling at Steve's insistence on staying by his side. "Making a promise like that, you'd better be," he said groggily. "When I wake up, the first thing I wanna see is that handsome face of yours." Flirting with the other man had become second nature to Tony. He relished the way Steve became so easily flustered. Indeed, Tony had never seen anyone blush as fiercely or quite as much as Steve. The truth of the matter was that he had grown attracted and attached to Captain America in a short space of time. To his great personal pride, Tony had managed not to make a move. He was too unsure about Steve. The sexual tension was mutual, that much was clear, but exactly how might Steve react? It might be worth it to find out. Before Tony could pursue this train of thought any further, he was out like a light.

True to his promise, Steve stayed by Tony's side all night and all through the next day. Night was already falling by the time Tony badgered the doctors into granting his release. It didn't hurt that he had Steve there promising to look after him and not let him overtax his healing body. If he'd had his own way, Steve would have insisted Tony stay in the hospital, but the place was depressing enough that he didn't want to stay himself. Instead he hovered by Tony's side, gathered his things, led him out to the car, and even sat next to him in the backseat on the drive home.

When they arrived, Steve insisted on carrying Tony's bag and holding doors for him. The gestures were old fashioned and perhaps unnecessary, but Steve still felt responsible for Tony getting hurt at all. If he could help in any small way, he intended to. While Tony got himself settled in his bedroom for the night, Steve fetched a pillow and comforter from his own room and began making up a bed for himself on the small couch in the room's sitting area, unwilling to leave Tony unprotected during the night.

The pain medication did its job well. Tony slept through the night, blissfully unaware of his aching wounds. His slumber went interrupted despite a series of bizarre dreams brought on by the pharmaceutical products swimming through his system. When Tony finally woke, it was with an almighty effort. He found his mouth terribly dry, and he fought to focus his vision. Tony glanced across the room and was greeted with the sight of Steve asleep on the couch. A rush of warmth filled his heart, shocking him with its intensity. Did Steve care for him enough to keep watch over him, or was he being overprotective because his presumed-dead best friend was involved? Clearing his throat softly, Tony tried to sit up only to groan aloud as a sharp pang shot through his torso.

Steve was up at once, rushing over to Tony's bedside and pressing a gentle hand against his chest again to force him back onto the bed. "Hey... no new rules. It's gonna be the same here as it was at the hospital - which means rest. Lots of it." He smiled, the expression genuine instead of pained this time. Tony looked better despite the discomfort he was obviously in. Without a word, Steve grabbed the water from the man's bedside along with a single pill. "You hungry? The nurse said it's better to take these on a full stomach. I can make you something."

Tony glanced up in surprise, commenting, "I didn't know you could cook." He took a grateful sip of water, swallowing and finding his dry throat easing off. "Aren't you just full of surprises? Nurse, babysitter and cook? Next thing I know you'll be giving me a sponge bath." He couldn't help teasing Steve, especially when the other man was behaving like the epitome of a boy scout. Tony wasn't used to being fussed over unless Pepper was present. He took care of himself, and it was an odd feeling allowing someone else to take on that role.

"Somebody has to take care of you," Steve protested, trying to ignore the rather lurid mental image of Tony naked and reclining in a tub. "Sit tight, I'll have something in a minute." Though he'd never become a four star chef, Steve was used to taking care of himself. He cooked his own meals, did his own laundry. He was used to not having anyone to do those things for him. Soon enough he returned bearing a tray with eggs, toast, bacon and orange juice. Steve couldn't help but smile as he set the tray down on the bedside table and helped Tony sit up. "If I stop surprising you, you might get sick of me." 

"I can't imagine that's ever going to happen," Tony remarked, casting his eyes over the feast Steve had prepared for him. His mouth watered at the delectable sight, and he realized just how truly hungry he was. He dug in immediately, showing his appreciation for Steve's cooking skills with a satisfied groan of pleasure. "You know a man could get used to this kind of service," he said, munching happily on his toast. "I'm glad I decided to keep you around." 

Deciding it would be awkward no matter when he made the observation, Steve grabbed his own plate from the tray and sat down next to Tony's bed. "I kind of figured Pepper would be pushing me out of the way by now. I mean, I know she's busy with Stark Industries, I just..." He searched Tony's face for any sign of an explanation. "You don't have to tell me if anything's wrong. It's none of my business, I know, it's just that you're both my friends." Steve couldn't help feeling a twisted sort of hope that Tony and Pepper were amicably separated, and he felt awful for wanting something that would mean unhappiness for two of his friends. 

Steve was fishing in the nicest way possible. Tony, however, found himself unsure over how to answer. "I wouldn't say that's anything's wrong," he eventually replied. "Pepper and I... we decided that we needed a break, that's all." It amounted to a whole lot more than that. Pepper had noticed Tony's interests shifting, becoming more and more focused on Steve, and she had graciously decided to give him time to figure things out for himself. "It's nothing you need to worry that pretty head of yours over," Tony assured him.

Steve flushed as he almost always did when Tony tossed out such casual compliments. Steve knew that the man did it just to get a rise out of him - or at least assumed he did. The truth was that they couldn't work together romantically. They were too different. They only barely made sense as friends. Steve tried to keep the conflicting feelings of relief and guilt and worry off his face as he said sincerely, "I'm sorry, Tony." He was. Mostly. Part of him rejoiced at the thought that Tony was free, but most of him just felt bad that Tony and Pepper might be calling it quits when they'd seemed to make one another so happy. Still he let his face soften into a smile. "But, hey, you've still got me."

"I do, don't I?" Tony said, returning Steve's smile with one of his own. Without thinking twice about it, he reached out and touched Steve's hand. The gesture was more intimate than any Tony had offered before. He watched Steve carefully, gauging the other man's reaction. "There's nothing to be sorry about. You didn't do anything wrong. The heart wants what the heart wants." Tony glanced down at the glowing energy emanating from his chest, shrugged and sighed, "Only I've got this in the middle of my chest, and it pretty much dictates everything." 

"I'm glad you do," Steve returned, looking down at Tony's hand resting against his own and felt a nervous flutter from the vicinity of his own heart. "You should be resting for now, but... but someday I'd like to know what your heart does want." It was the closest he could come to inviting Tony to speak his mind without taking things so far that they could never go back. For now Steve knew Tony probably needed a friend and a teammate more than anything else. "Anyway, I've got a meeting with Natasha and Fury this afternoon. I guess she's heard something finally."

"And what are you planning on doing if Natasha has heard something?" Tony wondered, returning his attention to the rest of his breakfast. "You and I had a deal, remember? No going off on your own." He pointed his fork in Steve's direction, emphasizing his words. "We're doing this together." Even as he spoke, Tony felt another sharp pang in his ribs but tried to swallow the reaction. The last thing he wanted was for Steve to discover he was in more discomfort than he was letting on.

Steve caught the wince and sighed. "I know. If Natasha's found something, then we'll make a plan. It may be nothing. I won't go in without you, but I can't promise that Fury won't order someone else in." He hated that thought for a lot of reasons. If it really was Bucky and there was some chance of fixing things, Steve didn't want Natasha or someone with no real stake in it taking action without thought. If it wasn't Bucky - not really Bucky - then Steve wanted to put him to rest himself if that was possible. No matter how it shook down he wasn't happy about the idea of not being there, but he wasn't about to leave Tony either. "I won't be gone long. And, no, you aren't coming." He'd seen Tony's lips parting and knew exactly what he was going to say. "You're barely up to eating breakfast. If it was any other meeting, you'd be finding a dozen reasons not to go. Trust me, whatever is said, I'll tell you. I promise."

"When did you become Mr. Bossy Boots?" Tony asked, clearly taken aback by Steve's assertive stance. Of course the other man was right. It was the fact that Tony was helpless to do anything which irked him. He tried to sit up to further protest, but the pain hobbled him and he was forced to concede defeat. "Alright, I'll wait here. I'll be pretty and silent and wait for your return." Tony fixed Steve with a meaningful stare. "And you'd better return - no matter what you find out. You made a promise, and I'm going to hold you to it."

"I will." Steve rose, taking the tray with him only to turn back at the door and add, "And I'm always bossy. I'm just polite about it." He grinned and closed the door behind him. JARVIS was on orders to keep an eye on Tony while he was gone and alert him the second the man tried to do something stupid like sit up again.

*****

Down in the war room, Natasha's expression was grim. But Natasha's expression was always grim. "It's Hydra."

Steve blinked. He felt as if nothing but ghosts were surrounding him lately. "Hydra? But-"

"We don't know, Captain," she answered, already anticipating his question. "They may be a branch established during the war or a splinter group of survivors... it's still not clear. We don't have anyone to ask yet." The “yet” came with a dangerous little smile, and Steve had no doubt that if they did find someone, that someone would be talking pretty quickly. "The only communications we've managed to intercept are encrypted and garbled. They refer to a 'Winter Solider', who we believe is Mr. Barnes." Natasha tapped a few keys on the pad before her and several images floated into view on the screen suspended above the conference table. Several showed security footage from the attack and another Bucky's enlistment photo. "We have no information on how he happens to be alive, not to mention well and gunning for Tony. The only thing we're sure of is that he wanted to be seen. He made eye contact with the security cameras, he made no effort to hide his face. Someone is sending us a message." Natasha hesitated and looked back to Steve with a quirk of one eyebrow. "Well, sending you a message."

Steve's jaw clenched at the words, but he couldn't disagree. It felt personal. Someone using Bucky like this, hurting Tony, it felt very, very personal. "So what do we do?"

"We find him, or at least some part of the organization. We have a few vague traces for these signals, so the first step is to find someone... or maybe to wait for them to find us. If they really want you, they'll eventually come after you. If they really want Tony, they'll come after him. So we post security, we secure the Tower, and we wait. You wait. Clint and I search."

Again Steve had to bit his tongue to keep from demanding to come along, but again Natasha was right. He had promised Tony he would stay close, and that alone kept him from protesting. Instead he let out a shaky breath and nodded once. "Okay. We wait."

*****

Steve felt utterly exhausted by the time he made it back upstairs even though it had only been a couple hours of questions, answers and strategy. By SHIELD standards, that was a walk in the park. "Tony?" he called, knocking softly on the man's door for fear of waking him if he'd finally managed to get some sleep.

It had taken a long time, but Tony had finally drifted back off. His mind remained plagued with worry long after Steve's departure. What was the purpose of the attack? To kill him? No, there had to be more to it than that. Tony's mind remained trapped in its restless state until the drugs kicked in and lulled him to sleep. Being a light sleeper even when drugged, however, Tony awakened to Steve's gentle knocking. "Hmm? Yeah..." He glanced up, blinking rapidly. "Come in... what happened?"

More than anything in that moment with Tony lying there with his hair messy and his eyes bleary, Steve wanted to crawl into bed beside him and just collapse. Instead, since that was inappropriate on so many levels he couldn't even be bothered to count them, Steve sank into the chair next to the bed. His shoulders slumped, and he didn't bother trying to look upbeat. Quietly he recounted everything they knew, everything about it being Hydra somehow and Bucky being alive and about them having no clue what was happening. "I asked Director Fury to call Bruce in. If we... if it is Bucky and we can fix this somehow... he's the smartest person we have next to you," Steve finished with his first flicker of a smile. "Right now we wait and I do everything I can to keep you safe."

Although Tony remained deeply concerned about the situation, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh, so you're admitting that I am the genius of the group?" he teased with mock-seriousness. "I must be having a profound effect on you, because you've made a lot of progress since moving in with me." Tony tossed a sly wink in Steve's direction, then his expression softened. "Why don't you try and get some rest? I really don't like seeing that pretty face of yours looking so tired." Tony managed to reach across and squeeze the other man's knee without causing himself pain. "And, if you want to undress right here, you won't hear me complaining."

"Thanks, but I'll pass on that. SHIELD should have more guards up here in another hour or so. I'll get some-" The sound of the door slamming open behind them had Steve on his feet in moments despite the fact that he had felt dead tired moments before. The sight that greeted him left Steve reeling all over again. The man that Natasha and Clint were supposed to be tracking stood in front of him, and there were no grainy security images to hide any hope that it might be someone else. "Bucky..." The word trailed off as the other man's expression didn't change in the slightest.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm here for someone in particular." Quickly the Winter Soldier raised a tranq gun and fired.

The dart caught Steve in the shoulder, and he reached up to pluck it out only to find that his limbs refused to respond. He sank to his knees and then the floor, shuddering as an icy chill crept through him faster than his metabolism could compensate for. The man's lips moved, but no sound came out.

A new gun appeared, and the next shot was for Tony. By the time the Winter Soldier scooped him up from the bed, he was out cold.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains non-con involving drugs. It's not happy, friendly stuff, and it will make some people uncomfortable, so please avoid this chapter if such things are a trigger or squick you.

Steve woke with a shaky gasp. The sound of beeping greeted his ears, and he couldn't stop trembling, shaking with a numbing cold. He swallowed hard and blinked, finally spotting a familiar face leaning over him. "C-coulson..." 

"Welcome back again, Cap." 

The words were strained with none of the usual warmth he expected from the man. Steve's mind felt as slow as his shivering body, and he managed to get himself into a seated position with Coulson's help as it finally struck him what was missing. "Tony!" No response came immediately, and panic set in. "Where is he? Where's Tony?" The physical chill was easing off. His body knew how to warm up, but Hydra had known that it would be the best way to take him down too. 

"The chemical they used shocked your body back into a coma. You were only out for a few hours. JARVIS alerted us as soon as he was back online. It was a small window - five minutes, maybe ten. Unfortunately it was enough for them to get Tony."

"For him to get Tony." Steve swung his legs off the bed and glared at Coulson as the man put a hand on his chest. "It was Bucky. It-"

"At this point, I think we need to assume that we're dealing with Hydra. Whether they're using Mr. Buchanan's body or not, this is them."

The words were hard to hear but kindly meant. The sooner Steve accepted the reality of the situation, the better off he would be. He swallowed and nodded. "It doesn't matter who took him. He was taken. He's with Hydra, and he's not safe. I promised that I would take care of him and-"

"You will. We all will." Coulson met the man's gaze and tried to smile. "Right now, you need to rest and warm up. Then we all move in together on this. We don't have a direction yet. The second I know anything, you’ll know it too."

Steve allowed himself to be forced back down onto the bed and even closed his eyes, but he knew there was no way he could possibly sleep.

*****

"Steve?" Tony called out groggily. His eyes felt as if two quarters were weighing them down and struggled to flicker open. The last thing he recalled was talking to Steve, and then blackness. Had the medication done a number on him? Somehow Tony doubted it. What he was feeling right now was definitely something different. "Cap?" Again, no response. Tony tried to move only to find that his arms and legs were being held down. //What the hell?// It was a little too much to hope that Steve had suddenly broken out of his shell and was trying something kinky. No, something was definitely wrong.

"I'm afraid the Captain wasn't able to make it." The overhead lights flickered to life and illuminated the room - a simple cell with little more than the slab on which Tony was strapped. The soldier flicked a switch near the door and the metal contraption tilted so that Tony could see him better. "But we'll make sure he sees everything. A feed is being patched in to SHIELD headquarters as we speak. You two seem close, so we felt sure you wouldn't mind sharing. Or showing off a little," he added with a nod to Tony's body in case the man hadn't fully registered his nudity. 

Tony, his dulled senses clearing, glanced down to find that he was tied down to a metal table wearing nothing but the bandages around his healing ribs. "Well, I hope you're charging for this," he said, making light of a dire situation. "A live streaming of Tony Stark in the buff could net you millions." Tony peered at the other man, recognition sparking as the mist obscuring his thoughts cleared. "Bucky?" There was no doubt about it. Tony remembered the soldier's image from Steve's file. "Care to tell me what the hell is going on?"

"You seem to be confusing me for someone you know. That's not a good idea. This isn't going to be comfortable for you." He took a few steps closer and nodded in the direction of the camera. "If you want to play to your audience, that's where you should look. I've given you a dose of sodium pentathol - truth serum, if you prefer." The man wore jeans and a white t-shirt, casual, unassuming, and utterly strange in the clinical surroundings. 

An intercom by the door buzzed to life. "The feed is live. Proceed."

A cold smile lit the man's face. "Excellent. So tell me, Mr. Stark, what is the nature of your relationship with Steve Rogers?"

*****

By the time he felt truly warm, the medics had already given him leave to get out of the infirmary. Steve was up at once and dressing as quickly as possible. He couldn't just lay there while Tony was somewhere undergoing god only knew what kind of torture.

Though he knew there were probably meetings going on, Steve doubted he could keep his cool, and he didn't really want to have the team see him falling apart. Instead he headed upstairs to the living area that the Avengers were all intended to share once the apartments were done and the others moved in. He ordered JARVIS to bring up any information that had been gathered on the attack, but before the anything could come up on the large television screen, another image popped up.

Steve frowned. JARVIS always followed orders. "JARVIS-" It registered exactly what he was seeing a second later.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but this is overriding-"

"Find out where this is coming from," Steve broke in, his throat tight. The camera was pulled in tight on Tony's pale, groggy features and then pulled back, the action jerky and mechanical, until he could see that the man was actually nude and strapped to some sort of metal table. Torn between looking away and not wanting to miss a second in case it gave away some hint as to Tony's location, Steve sank down onto the couch. //At least he's alive...//

"What madness is this?" Thor burst into the room, striding over to Steve and glaring at the image displayed before him. He had witnessed torture before, but he had never seen the likes of this in Asgard. Stripping someone of their dignity and displaying it in such a way was revolting. "Those who took him shall pay. We will tear them asunder!" Thor's muscles bulged, and the thunder god looked fit to reach right through the screen and smash the figure intimidating Tony.

Steve was finding it difficult to breathe or think, and oddly enough Thor's brash display gave him a sharp moment of focus. "We will. As soon as we find them." He rose on shaky legs and was on the verge of leading Thor downstairs - he suspected the same image was being broadcast to the rest of the display screens in the building as well - when the camera pulled back yet again and another figure came into view. Seconds later the audio cut in along with the image. "That's... that's Bucky." Whether he agreed with Coulson or not about the likelihood of the man still being at all himself, it was impossible to see that face and not react. "Which means that Hydra definitely has Tony, and we have to get him out of there."

"Then we will destroy them and retrieve our friend," Thor said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Having never been one to wait around, the thunder god was ready to take action. As the images on the screen progressed, it was abundantly clear what Tony's torturer intended to do. Thor grasped Steve's arm and started to pull the other man away. "Watching will do no good," he said with a surprisingly gentle tone. "Instead, we should make ourselves ready."

"That's a good idea," Natasha agreed from the doorway. She saw Steve opening his mouth to protest and gave a sharp shake of her head. "Tony is drugged, vulnerable, and he can barely hold his tongue under normal circumstances. Anything you need to hear, he'll tell you himself. For now, suit up. As soon as SHIELD gets a lock on his location, we move in. Now, Cap."

Normally Steve might have bristled at Natasha so casually taking control of things, but instead he nodded and let Thor lead him down the hallway to his own room. He hesitated outside of Tony's door, gaze lingering on the mussed sheets and the glass of water still sitting on the nightstand. "They wouldn't have him if it wasn't for me. This is about me, not about Tony."

One of Thor's large hands came to rest on Steve's shoulder. "Calm yourself, my friend," the thunder god said. "You cannot blame yourself for the actions of others." His eyes cast over the room, his brow creasing into a deep frown. It should not have surprised him to discover that Tony and Steve had feelings for one another. The way the two of them fought, one could practically feel the tension rolling off of them. He fully expected the pair to either rip each other apart or engage in a night of debauchery so fierce it could even be felt in Asgard. "What I cannot understand is why you are being targeted."

"Hydra's not a big fan of mine," Steve replied, though he wondered if that could be all it was. He shook his head. "I don't know." It was hard to think at all when he wanted to run out the door, find Tony, and get him home again. 

As if on cue Natasha threw the door open. "We traced the signal. Saddle up, boys."

Relieved, Steve followed at once, knowing Thor would do the same. He finally had hope to cling to, and Steve held it fast. They would get to Tony. They would arrive in time to save him further pain. They would fix this. Even as he repeated the words to himself, Steve wondered if there was any way they were true.

*****

Tony blinked uncomprehendingly at the other man. "Our relationship? You didn't have to tie me up and strip me down to ask me that." He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, his mouth suddenly very dry. The drug was taking effect, and Tony fought to stay lucid even as it lulled him into a dreamlike state. "We're friends... teammates..." he began to slur. "Ever heard of the Avengers? That's us..."

"That's your team," the man agreed placidly, "but that's not what I asked about. The two of you are living together. He's hardly left your side. Had to knock him out just to get to you. That's seems very, very friendly." It was easy to see that the drugs were making Tony a little loopy, but that was for the best. The more pliant he was, the easier it would be to put on a proper show. "Your conquests are common knowledge, Mr. Stark. Are you trying to tell me that you have no interest whatsoever in Steve Rogers apart from professional courtesy?"

Tony remained lucid enough to understand the ramifications of such a question. If it was known how he truly felt for Steve, then it could be used to hurt him. Gritting his teeth, he fought against the effect of the drug as he answered, "We're friends... Steve lives with me... because he needed help... getting..." Tony closed his eyes shut tight, feeling his resolve beginning to slip. "He's... my... friend..." He strained against his bonds, feeling the pain from his fractured ribs. It helped him to focus, and Tony kept pushing himself.

"Mr. Stark, you seem to be having difficulty focusing." In truth, Tony seemed to be using his discomfort to avoid the questions. That wouldn't do. His superiors had been very clear about what they wanted to hear, about what they thought it would take to break the man they were really putting on the show for. Moving in until Tony couldn't ignore him, the Soldier's voice dropped, and his hand came to rest just below the reactor on Tony's chest before trailing down. "We know you ended things with Miss Potts. We know your interests don't lie with women alone, so why do you continue denying what you feel?"

Tony felt himself losing the fight despite his best efforts. His head was spinning and his body ached. Thoughts raced through his mind, many of which Tony was not proud of. They struggled to burst forth even as he tried in vain to suppress them. "I'm not... denying anything," he said through gritted teeth. Sweat glistened all over his body, which warmed with the effort of his fight against the drug. "I... he's... I..." As if bursting for air after being underwater too long, Tony gasped, "I want to fuck him!"

The confession was much more in line with what they wanted to hear, and the Soldier chuckled before he let his hands slide even lower through the slick sweat coating the man's skin. "There, was that so hard? Half the country wants to fuck him. Why would you be any different?" Softly, too quietly for the camera to pick up, he demanded, "Tell me what you want to do to him. Tell me and maybe I'll even help you get a little relief."

Tony gasped and shivered at the other man's touch. His mind trapped in a haze due to the truth serum, Tony could not think clearly. "I... I want to... fuck him... fuck him so hard he screams my name..." Unable to control himself, he was revealing things he'd only ever dreamed of, and the thought of bending Steve Rogers over, devouring that perfect ass, and fucking him into submission made Tony Stark hard as the Iron Man suit he'd built.

"I bet he'd like that," the Soldier answered, tone mocking. He wrapped his hand around Stark's cock and gave it one long, slow pump. "You should have tried. You should still if you get to see him again. So how does the great Tony Stark go about seducing someone? Wine? Candles? Or do you just throw them up against a wall and go for it?" 

Tony, his defenses broken, was unable to do anything except submit. A thick haze covered his mind, and he found himself hallucinating. Steve appeared before him, taunting and teasing him. The hand touching him was Steve's, and Tony nearly fell apart at the sensual stroke. "I... I want to grab you," he believed he was telling Steve, "kiss you... rip your clothes off..." Groaning deep in his throat, he shifted his hips in a desperate attempt for more contact. "Throw you down... and fuck you..."

Intrigued by the new turn things were taking, the Soldier smirked and began to stroke in earnest. "Is that all? Just a quick fuck and done? Seems like a shame..." He could feel the man's pulse pounding through his cock, hear his breath speeding up. "There's nothing else you want?"

Another tremor of lust wrenched at Tony as he did his best to thrust into his tormentor's fist. Sweat streamed down his face as he gasped out, "I want to be fucked... Steve, fuck me... Hold me down... and use me... fuck me... fuck me, please..." Need clawed at his senses. The cool, calm and collected Tony Stark was no more. The drug had unleashed the feelings he'd been repressing, and transformed him into a wanton creature of lust.

"Never say no to an offer like that." Especially since he had been instructed to make sure things would be as difficult as possible for the man after his rescue. The Avengers would be focused on his ordeal, think of that as the punishment. In truth it was little more than a catalyst. On the table full of instruments next to Tony's cot was a package of condoms and a tube of lubricant. Hydra was nothing if not thorough. The Soldier smiled grimly to himself and stroked his own cock to full hardness before releasing the ties holding Tony's legs to the table. He was too far gone to need them. With no further time spent on preparation and instead a liberal dollop of lube, he lifted the man's legs, spread them and slid home between. "Is that what you need?"

A guttural roar wrenched itself from Tony's throat as he was forcibly claimed by that mammoth length. The pain was blinding, stealing his breath away and causing his muscles to tense. It also had the effect of giving Tony a momentary rush of clarity. The haze of the drug cleared, and his eyes widened in shock. "What the hell? You're not Steve..." Tony struggled, but to no avail. His wrists were still firmly bound, and although his legs were free, he could not wrench himself loose. The Soldier had fully impaled him, claiming him with such intensity that hot tears pricked at Tony's eyes.

"Nice of you to notice." The next thrust made Tony wince, but the Soldier didn't slacken his pace for a second. He had his orders. The point was to debase the man as much as possible and leave him a wreck. That was all that mattered. He ignored the other man's pained groans as he thrust hard and fast into the body that had been so willing a moment before. "What do you think finding you like this will do to your hero, Mr. Stark?"

Tony was in agony, physically and emotionally. He wrenched at his bonds, his muscles bulging as he hoped to either break his wrists or the manacles, but it was to no avail. The Soldier plowed into him relentlessly, and the mocking gleam in his eyes chilled Tony's blood. "He'll hate me!" he cried out, his jaw clenched. "Is that... what you want? Is that... what all this's about?" A ragged groan tore itself from his throat as the other man rammed into him so forcefully it rattled Tony to his core.

*****

Watching Natasha cut through men like they were tissue never stopped being unsettling. What really rattled Steve was the fact that there were so few guards. They were obviously supposed to find the place. The whole thing smelled like a set-up, and that idea worried him more than anything. What else could be happening? A scream echoed down the hall and Steve felt his heart skip a beat.

At the head of the group Natasha heard too. "Wait here," she snapped, assuming command without a thought. Normally Steve would have interfered, but in that moment, he was too scared of what he might see on the other side of the doors. He just nodded meekly, going with Thor to make sure the rest of the building was clear for their egress. 

Natasha edged wasn't surprised when she slammed the door open with a single kick. "Get away from him," she snapped while Clint leveled a bow at the man on top of Tony.

The Soldier held up his hands, stepping back as quickly as possible given the situation. He opened his mouth to speak, but an arrow laced with drugs slammed into his shoulder and sent him to the ground before he said anything at all. 

"Tony? You still with us?" the woman asked in a softer tone while Clint kicked their new captive none-too-gently in the side to make sure he was out. As she spoke, Natasha began unfastening the leather straps holding Tony down. "Can you walk?" She glanced around and nodded toward the pile of clothes in the corner. Clint handed her Tony's pants a beat later and Natasha immediately began helping him into them. The less wrecked he looked by the time Steve and Thor joined them, the better.

Tony's head lolled drunkenly, and he barely managed a murmured "Yeah," as he got on his feet. His legs quaked dangerously, while his entire body followed suit. He was shaking like a puppy left out on a cold and rainy night. He could not even begin to process what had happened. His mind whirled with the events, but one thing was abundantly clear: he had confessed his true feelings for Steve over a broadcast channel. How could he ever face him again? 

At that moment the doors burst open, and a very angry Thor charged into the room. "Where is he?" he thundered. "Where is the scum that took our comrade? He shall be nothing more than a nasty stain once I am through with him!"

Steve didn't entirely disagree, but he was stopped dead in his track when he actually saw Bucky, unconscious on the floor and being snapped into cuffs by Clint. He was frozen for a moment as anger and relief and fear warred for a place in the moment. He finally settled on looking for Tony instead and finding the man looking haggard and half dressed with Natasha's hands carefully keeping him on his feet. "Tony... are you okay?" Of course he wasn't okay, but Steve could think of nothing else to say. He wanted more than anything to rush forward, grab the man and hug him until he couldn't breathe. After everything Tony had been through, the last thing he needed was someone invading his space. 

Natasha broke the stalemate with a curt, "Clint, get him loaded up in back. Steve, if you could help me with Tony?"

He nodded and slipped an arm carefully under Tony's to support him. "I've got you." 

Tony shut his eyes, unable to even glance in Steve's direction or acknowledge him. The drug continued to affect his mind, making him nauseous and lightheaded. Tony did not trust himself for the first time in his life. Any second he might blurt out his feelings for Steve or dissolve into an uncontrollable fit of sobbing over the assault. He steadfastly refused to do either. Tony was vaguely aware of Thor raging around the room, eager to wreak havoc and being reluctantly calmed down. If only his own problems could be solved that easily. He caught a whiff of Steve's scent and nearly lost control of himself. Biting hard on his tongue, Tony barely managed to swallow the words he'd already confessed what seemed like hours ago. Then the memory of Winter Soldier came flooding back in bits and pieces, and Tony's body reacted accordingly. He started to tremble all over again, and felt bile rising to the back of his throat.

Seeing Tony go pale a second before he began to shiver, Steve looked up only to find Natasha already holding out an airsick bag as he settled Tony into a seat on the jet. "We'll be home soon," he assured, helpless to do more than that. He hated feeling so useless, but until they got back to the tower, there wasn't much to do but strap Tony in and try to make sure he was comfortable. 

Natasha looked up from her phone long enough to strap in. "Bruce is waiting for us. He should be able to help get everything straightened out." She politely didn't mention the fact that he would do in a pinch with Tony unable to fill his usual role as the smartest man in the room. 

Steve took a seat right next to the billionaire and found himself progressively more worried by the fact that Tony wasn't talking. Tony Stark, the man who never shut up, wasn't talking. He opened his mouth several times to break the silence but always ended up shutting it again. What could he say? Of course Tony blamed him for what had happened. Of course Tony felt terrible. There was nothing to say. By the time they reached headquarters, Steve's stomach was in knots, and he didn't even have the strength to protest when Natasha insisted he help Bruce instead of following Tony. Instead they parted ways in the hall as Tony was taken one way to detox and Bucky was taken another. Bruce was in charge of finding out how bad things were and whether there was any chance of finding the man he had once been inside the Soldier.

In the end Steve spent the better part of three hours sitting alone on a bench in the hallway hating every second of the wait and not knowing what to do. Tony was "being treated" for the drugs and otherwise examined according to Natasha. Visitors, she had said, wouldn't be a good idea. Steve understood that she meant him visiting wouldn't be a good idea. He'd clenched his fists but nodded. Finally Bruce emerged looking exhausted but invigorated. In moments like that Steve could see clearly the parallels between Bruce and Tony, the way they fed off of mysteries and problems and the solutions therein. 

"He's still out," Bruce began as he took a seat on the bench next to Steve and stretched his legs out in front of him. "We're working to get all the drugs out of his system. The stuff they gave him... I don't even know what some of it is. Once he's clear, then we wake him up and see. It's fair to say there was probably some brainwashing apart from the drugs, but I've got my suspicions that the cocktail was their main tool. That's good for us since it means once the detox is done..."

Steve allowed himself a moment of help, "He might still be himself?"

"He might," Bruce allowed with a nod. "He might not, though, and I don't want to lie to you, Cap. This is bad either way. Part of me wants him to remember everything so we can find Hydra and cut all the heads off that thing once and for all. Part of me hopes he doesn't remember anything. We got a taste of what they've been using him for with Tony, but we don't know how bad it's been."

The thought of that was enough to make Steve feel sick all over again. "I should have gone back-"

"To find the pieces? You thought he was dead. You had every right to think that. Risking more lives... that would've been the wrong thing to do. You know that." Bruce sighed and pushed off of the bench. "Go get some sleep if you can. Maybe by tomorrow you'll have two friends to visit."

Steve nodded, but when Bruce disappeared into the lab again, he stayed right where he was.


	5. Chapter 5

Natasha pushed the door open quietly and slipped over to Tony's bedside. According to his doctor, the drugs should have been out of his system a good half hour before. Keeping her hands carefully to herself, the woman ventured, "Tony?"

Off in a world of his own, Tony jolted at the sound of his own name. Tony hated jumping at shadows. His attempts at mustering some of his trademark cool and witty demeanor failed miserably. He did not want to see anyone, let alone talk to them. "I'm fine, Natasha," came his murmured reply. "You don't have to keep checking on me." Tony's body betrayed him, giving an involuntary shiver. He felt like a helpless kitten left out in the rain for far too long, and that made him feel even worse about everything that had happened. 

"Someone does," the woman answered easily. She unfolded herself into the closest chair with ease and grace, then looked him over. "You need a friend. Since letting Tony or Bruce know what happened would be a bad idea for obvious reasons and Clint has even worse bedside manner than I do..." Natasha smiled faintly at the man in the bed, but the expression flickered away just as quickly. "You'd be surprised how well I understand."

Tony flinched, but he decided to ignore that and not delve deeper. Everything seemed to remind him of his ordeal, and even when he shut his eyes he could still see Winter Soldier's face leering down at him. His own reaction to the assault sickened him more than anything. He tried to console himself with the fact that he had been drugged and believed the other man was Steve, but that offered Tony little comfort. "I don't suppose you could sneak something a little stronger to drink in here?" he asked Natasha, lifting the bland bottled water he'd been given.

"Afraid not - at least until they're sure the drugs are out of your system." Natasha paused and leaned in a little closer as if it would actually do anything to create intimacy against the barrage of security monitoring SHIELD had in place throughout the building, "But when you're out this evening, I have vodka that will impress even the great Tony Stark." The woman sat up straighter again and watched Tony carefully. "It won't be easy. Director Fury will want you to see a counselor. It's not a bad idea. You may not realize it yet, but keeping something like this from the team will be difficult. Right now you think you never want anyone to know anyway. That will change."

Tony screwed his mouth up, trying to remain stoic while pushing the memories out of his mind. The thought of talking to someone about what had happened made him feel sick all over again. "Well, you'll have to forgive me, but somehow I don't believe that," he murmured, tossing the bottled water he'd been handling across the room. Tony scored an impromptu goal when the bottle landed in a waste paper basket. "Right now I don't think I'll ever be able to talk about... anything." He glanced up at Natasha, almost worriedly. "Steve... has he been by?"

"We've been keeping him in the hallway. He's been waiting for any news about you." //Or about Bucky.// Natasha decided that the last bit might be better kept to herself and tilted her head instead. "Would you like me to get him? I wanted to make sure you were up to it first." Out of everyone, she knew that Steve would be the hardest to face. He knew enough for the whole situation to be embarrassing and not nearly enough to offer the comfort Tony really needed. 

Visibly drawing back at Natasha’s suggestion, Tony’s first reaction was to say no. Steve was the last person on earth he wanted to see. How could he face him? How could he explain what had happened? Before Tony could stop himself, he was nodding slowly and murmuring, “Yes, could you bring him in?” He winced, unable to take it back. This was an enormous mistake and he knew deep down he wasn’t ready to see Steve.

Natasha almost called Tony on his bullshit, but she decided against it. After everything he’d been through, he needed his friends even if it hurt to talk to them. Instead she nodded and slipped out of the room.

The woman appeared at his side so silently that Steve started when Natasha spoke. “Tony’s awake. He’d like to see you.” He was on his feet and at the door before she added, “Be gentle with him.”

Steve stared at her in shock for a moment before nodding. “I will.” He opened the door softly as if afraid even that might disturb the man. Ducking his head in, Steve called, “Tony?” It hit him like a punch to the gut to see him in a hospital bed once again. It hurt to see him in pain, to see him vulnerable, and not to know whether it was okay to rush over and hug him or not. With no idea what to say Steve finally settled on, “How are you feeling?”

Averting his gaze, Tony decided it definitely wasn’t the best idea to see Steve. It was too late now, of course. Steve was there and Tony could feel the concern emanating off the other man in waves. “I’ve been better,” he murmured. “Looked a hell of alot better, too.” Tony finally allowed himself to glance up. He swallowed hard, the sight of Steve making him feel both ashamed and hurt. It wasn’t Steve’s fault in any way, shape or form, but Tony’s desire for him had been the weakness that caused all of this to happen. “How have you been?” he asked rather feebly.

Steve managed a faint smile at that, at Tony asking about someone else just to keep the attention away when usually he was so happy to have it fully focused on himself. “Awful,” Steve admitted as he came to rest in the chair closest to Tony’s bed. He could sense the man withdrawing, but he wasn’t going to let Tony fold in on himself if he could help it. “I’ve been just... waiting, really. You in here and...” He stopped, realizing that talking about Bucky’s situation wasn’t going to make Tony feel any better. “I’m just glad you’re awake.”

Tony nodded at that, unsure whether his being awake was really such a good thing after all. “Whatever those meds were, they knocked me out big time. And that never happens. I’ll have to make a note to take a doggy bag home.” Flippancy came to Tony with the ease of breathing. He’d always fallen back on it when things got too serious. Not only did it help him to think, but it also managed to put everyone around him off guard. “Do you think they’ll be springing me out of here soon?” he wondered aloud. “I’d really like to get back to work on some things; important things.”

“As soon as everything’s cleared out of your system,” Steve agreed with a solemn nod. “Natasha said maybe tonight.” He was trying not to be annoyed that Natasha had suddenly become the point person when it came to all things Tony. After everything, Steve knew that keeping his distance might be most comfortable for awhile, but it was hard. He wanted to know that Tony was okay, and he wanted to make up for failing to protect him the first time around. “I guess I should probably let you get some rest, I just...” Steve faltered and finally shrugged, “I just wanted to see you.” He cleared his throat and stood. “Do you need anything?”

Tony opened his mouth to reply only to close it again when he could not find the words to answer Steve with. There were a million unspoken things he needed. First and foremost was for time to miraculously be set back so that everything could be undone. Tony hated feeling like this; helpless, weak, humiliated and defeated. And all in front of Steve. Finally, with a sigh, he managed, “If I can get out of here, that’ll be the best medicine in the world.” Realizing the awkward atmosphere had only grown thicker, Tony didn’t blame Steve for wanting to depart. He wondered if he would ever feel comfortable around the other man again. “Steve,” he called out,“thanks. For coming by.” It was the best Tony could muster.

“Yeah. Of course.” Steve tried to sound at ease, but he knew he wasn’t managing well by the look on Tony’s face. “I’ll come back as soon as I can - hopefully to visit you in your room instead of here.” Offering what he hoped was a bright smile, Steve made his way out. He was so distracted that he almost bowled over Natasha, who had apparently been lurking nearby. “Oh! Sorry.”

“Not a problem, Cap. You alright?”

Steve swallowed and nodded. “Sure. Just worried about Tony.”

“We all are. He’s stronger than he looks. Just make sure you take care of yourself too.” After a pause filled with Natasha studying him like a bug under a microscope, the woman added, “Bruce says you have another visit you can make if you’re up to it.”

“Bucky’s-”

Natasha cut him off with a sharp nod. “He’s awake. Just don’t expect too much.”

Steve tried not to look as annoyed by the remark as he felt and instead nodded his acceptance of the advice before veering down the hallway toward the room where they had Bucky sequestered. Bruce looked up and offered Steve a smile a beat before Bucky turned as well. Bucky managed a quick, flickering smile. “Nice to know some things never do change - some of us haven’t aged a day.”

Steve found himself torn between laughing and crying. “Are you... how are you feeling?” The man sounded shockingly normal given everything that had happened. He sounded utterly and completely like the man Steve knew.

“Like me,” Bucky answered with obvious relief. He looked to Bruce and gave the man a nod of approval. “The doc here’s pretty good.” He lifted one of his arms to show the IV attached. “He’s flushing me out. Actually, flushing them out.”

Bruce agreed, “He should be back to normal soon. Director Fury still thinks it best that he stay under... protection.” The scientist’s dark eyes told Steve that the orders went deeper than protecting Bucky.

“Guard. He means under guard. And bars. Possibly restraints,” Bucky clarified with a smile that showed he didn’t much mind. “I think it’s probably best too. I feel like me, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I am.”

The thought hit Steve hard, but he was too happy actually talking to Bucky to let it drag the mood down. He grabbed a stool and pulled it over to Bucky’s bed. There was one thing he needed to get off his chest to have any chance of feeling better about it all. “I’m sorry I didn’t come after you. When you fell...”

“Why?” Bucky asked bluntly. “You saw me fall; no one could have survived that.” He gave a small shake of his head, then glanced back up at Steve with sad eyes. “I still don’t think I have.” His words were so quiet they were barely discernible even to Bucky’s ears. Unwilling to let thoughts of the past spoil his boisterous mood at being free at least, Bucky shrugged it off. A little louder, he added, “Steve, we were both doing our jobs. Fighting for what we both believe in. If it had been you instead of me, well, I would have done exactly the same thing. So, don’t blame yourself; I don’t.”

Steve gave up on holding himself back and reached for Bucky’s hand. The feeling of the solid skin beneath his own was more comfort than he could have imagined, and he felt the sting of tears that he tried to fight back. “Right now my job is making sure that you and Tony are okay. I know it’s gonna be a long time before you are, but... you’re not gone. We’re both here and we’re alive, and whatever kind of mess we might be, that means something.”

“Tony?” Bucky asked, glancing down at his hand in Steve’s. “Oh, right... they mentioned something about a Tony, but I really didn’t understand.” He gave another slight shake of his head, only to wish he hadn’t a moment later. The drugs had left his head swimming despite his good moon, and a soft groan pressed his lips apart as he fought against an impending migraine. “We were found together... or rescued... or something.” Bucky peered at Steve as if he had the answers to everything. “None of it makes any sense to me.”

Steve considered telling Bucky a bit more about what had happened but decided against it just as fast. Bucky didn’t need to know how bad it had been, not until he was back on his feet. Then they could rehash the whole thing. “Right now maybe that’s for the best. We don’t know what you’ve been through. We assume that Hydra’s had you since you fell and... that’s a long time.” The thought of it made Steve swallow hard to clear a catch from his voice before speaking again. “I’m just happy that you’re here and in one piece and Tony is too. We’ll figure out the rest of it later.”

“If you say so,” Bucky decided, hearing the emotion in Steve’s voice. “We’ve come a long way since Brooklyn, haven’t we?” His gaze wandered over his friend’s form; Steve looked exactly the same, except for his eyes. They spoke of untold things Steve Rogers had seen and done. It made his heart ache not only for Steve, but for the time they had both lost. “So,” he started, searching for a topic to break the awkward silence, “sounds like you’re still suiting up.”

That brought a smile to Steve’s face, and he nodded. “I guess it’s a hard habit to shake. SHIELD gave me a chance to keep helping people, and that seemed like the thing to do. It’s all I wanted to do in the first place.” Though he knew it wasn’t really his place to make the offer, he added, “Maybe when you’re feeling more like yourself again... maybe we can find something for you to do around here. Somebody has to make the coffee,” Steve deadpanned.

“Coffee?” Bucky grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at Steve. “I see you’re still a little wiseass.” It was meant with a great deal of affection. It also came as something of a relief to find that Steve had remained the same old Steve Bucky had known despite everything that had happened. “You could’ve brought me something, y’know?” He folded his arms across his chest, adopting a mock angry expression. “Here I am laid up in a hospital bed and what do I get? No candy, no flowers, no nothing. Zip, zada. Is that anyway to greet an old, sick friend?”

“Probably not,” Steve admitted with a hint of a smile as he settled the pillow back on the bed, “but the tower doesn’t have a gift shop. At least not one I’ve found. Big as this place is... well, let’s just say I might’ve missed it.” Even as a work in progress - only about half of the rooms and other facilities were fully finished - the place was a maze. At times it made Steve miss the tiny, poorly lit apartment he’d occupied in Brooklyn. “Besides, I bring candy and flowers, people are going to think I’m asking you out, not helping you heal.” 

Bucky glanced up, his eyes bright and his expression coy. “Would that be such a bad thing?” he murmured. Despite having secretly harbored feelings for Steve as far back as he could remember, it was the first time Bucky had ever made the slightest hint. He had always been the one to suggest or set up dates with girls, all the while hiding the truth about himself and how he’d felt toward Steve. From what he could tell the world had changed a lot, and he saw no reason why he couldn’t change along with it. “I mean, I wouldn’t object,” added Bucky softly.

Steve faltered and more or less stopped breathing for several seconds. The air rushed back into his lungs with an audible gasp, and Steve tried to find something to say. On top of everything else, Steve felt himself drifting into a strange parody of a fantasy he’d let go of when Bucky was lost. Tony had revived it in a way, dragging up feelings and questions he had buried carefully. “You wouldn’t?” The words could have easily been a joke. Steve wanted to tread lightly. 

Before he had the chance to ask more, the door opened a sliver and Bruce stuck his head in. “Sorry to interrupt. Mr. Barnes, you do need your rest. Maybe a couple hours of sleep and then some visiting hours? The stuff that’s washing you out’ll hit pretty hard soon. You’re probably going to sleep whether you want to or not.”

Bucky visibly deflated. Just when he and Steve were talking - really talking - for the first time, they were interrupted as if on cue. “Yeah, okay,” he begrudgingly agreed. “I could probably use a little more shut-eye.” He sank down further into the bed, threading his fingers together and pillowing the back of his head. Glancing at Steve, he flashed an uncharacteristically bashful grin. “You’ll think about what I said, won’t you?” asked Bucky with a hint of hope. Now that it was out in the open, he wasn’t going to let it go, and he didn’t want Steve to think all he was doing was joking around. Steve might end up shooting him down, but Bucky’s near-death experience - his last solid memory - had made him more fearless about taking chances. 

Steve found himself nodding, too shocked to think of a proper response. “Yeah. I will. I will,” he assured, seeing a flicker of doubt in Bucky’s eyes. The whole thing would take a lot of thinking, but Steve wasn’t ready to close any doors. 

Bruce followed him out. “Well, we got some of the tests in. Looks like we’ve got the worst of it out. He should be in the clear with the drugs tomorrow. At that point... at that point, some of the stuff that’s fuzzy right now may start coming clear. That’s good for us since it may mean information that could help us find Hydra and maybe bad for him since I doubt this is the first time they’ve asked him to do something pretty horrific.” 

The gravity of the words sunk in quickly, and Steve sighed. “Can he stay close to me? I mean, can I stay close to him? He said you wanted to put him somewhere secure-”

“It’s Fury’s orders. Safety. We think we got it all out, but-”

“No, I agree. It’s the best idea. I’d just like to be where he is. At least for awhile.”

Bruce slowly nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure we can do that.” He paused, hesitated, and finally went ahead and asked, “What will Tony think?” 

That brought Steve up short, and he finally shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t even know what I think right now.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of angst and a few moments of light. We have to have those sometimes. There's discussion of rape and mind control here, so be warned if those are triggers for you. And, also, stop reading this fic. Seriously, this will NOT be good for you.

Steve set down the box containing his things and looked around the room. It could have passed for the twin of the one he’d been staying in. The only difference was the move to a different floor and the suite he now shared in the suite with Bucky. Steve felt a flutter of nervous excitement at the thought. They hadn’t shared a living space in decades. Or any space, really. In the days since everything went to hell, Steve had tried a dozen times or more to find a moment to talk to Tony, to see if the move was okay with him and if he understood. Instead he’d been met with a wall of silence aided by Jarvis and the unlikely bodyguard of Natasha. She circled Tony protectively and always held up whatever lie Jarvis put forth about Tony being busy with research.

Just thinking about it set Steve’s blood pressure on the rise. He needed to know Tony was okay. The best he could get were vague assurances from other people. He’d learned through constantly hounding the team and Coulson that Tony wasn’t really talking to anyone. Only Coulson showed much open concern for the fact, but even he gently urged Steve to give the man space. So Steve gave Tony space. He moved his things without their exchanging so much as a word, and he ached to know what was happening inside the man’s head. After growing so unexpectedly close to the billionaire, Steve found the sudden freeze out intolerable.

“You okay?” Bucky asked as he rounded the corner. He could see the anxiety bunched in Steve’s muscles through the white T-shirt his friend was wearing. It did not take a rocket scientist to work out what was troubling Steve; Tony Stark seemed to be all the other man could talk or think about. Bucky felt an irrational stab of jealousy whenever the topic had been brought up. Something had happened to Tony, something awful that no one wanted to talk about. It was as if everyone - including Steve - was walking on eggshells around him. It didn’t help that he was starting to remember things. Vague images crept into his mind, brief and blinding like the flash bulb of a camera. Bucky had no idea what they meant or how it connected, but he didn’t care for the implications. “Only reason I ask,” he continued, keeping his tone light despite his dark thoughts, “is because I’m worried you’re gonna mess up that pretty face with all that frowning.”

Steve tried to look stern, but Bucky knew him too well, and he finally sighed and sank onto the couch. “I don’t like that he won’t talk to me. It was hard at first getting to know him, but then… I felt like we were friends.” He’d honestly hoped they were on their way to being a great deal more than friends. “I feel like things would be fine if he’d just let me in, but he spends all his time in the lab, and then he won’t see me and-” Steve cut himself off. Bucky had more than enough problems of his own to deal with. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, tone gentle. “I want to be here for you. I just wanted to be there for both of you. He’s not letting me be, and it’s driving me a little crazy.”

Bucky felt another hot flash of jealousy. It surprised him because it was accompanied by a rush of unfamiliar anger. He shook his head as if to clear it. “Well,” he started, joining Steve on the sofa, “I don’t understand what’s wrong with Tony Stark.” Bucky reached out, closing his hand on Steve’s shoulder. He wanted more, to do more than just offer the other man a friendly gesture. Steve had been coy ever since their talk, and Bucky had no idea how his friend truly felt toward him. “I mean, no one will talk about what happened, so I don’t know what to say that’ll help the situation.” His hand caressed its way down Steve’s back, soothing the tense muscles he found there. “I’m here, and I need you,” he said softly.

The words sent a shock of nervous energy through Steve. He loved hearing them and felt ill-at-ease all at the same time. They’d walked a strange line between flirtation and friendship since Bucky made his confession, and Steve felt guilty about even that. The only problem was assigning the guilt properly. He hated the idea that he was letting Tony down somehow or leaving the man behind. He hated equally the thought of betraying the man who’d been his best friend since childhood. It wasn’t in Steve’s nature to spend a lot of time complaining, but he realized as he met Bucky’s gaze that it wasn’t complaining to have an honest talk about it all. “I know that. Being here and having you safe and alive is more than I ever hoped for.” Even Steve heard the “but” at the end of the words and fought to keep from wincing. “Right now, I need my best friend, and… that’s all.”

Bucky visibly deflated; his hopes of his relationship with Steve turning into something more completely evaporated. A flame of anger ignited deep inside of him, burning hot and wishing to scorch Tony Stark. There was no doubt in Bucky’s mind that Tony was standing between him and Steve. And Bucky could not remember ever feeling such an overwhelming urge to beat the shit out of someone before. Somehow he managed to tamp down the ire building inside of him, and he turned his attention toward the boxes littering the room. “Well, I’d better finish unpacking,” he started as a means of a distraction, but then a sharp pain stabbed through his head and Bucky tumbled from the couch in agony.

Steve was on his knees in a second wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders. “Hey… hey, are you okay?” The man’s face was twisted in a grimace, and the question seemed both obvious and obviously wrong. Still Steve kept himself focused on Bucky’s problem and not the complete lack of competence he’d apparently developed in emergency situations. “Do I need to get a medic?” 

The pain gradually subsided and Bucky gave a firm shake of his aching head. “No,” he said tremulously, “no, I’m fine…” He tried to sit up but collapsed into Steve’s arms again instead. It was not an unpleasant situation to be in. In fact, it was something Bucky had been longing for ever since he awoke from his long sleep. What disturbed him were the random, nightmarish images that had flashed in his mind during the attack. “I just… saw something… I really wish I hadn’t.”

As much as Steve didn’t want to push, Bruce had been very clear that if Bucky started to remember anything, they needed to do whatever they could to draw it forward. The more Bucky remembered, the better their chance at getting to Hydra. “What is it?” he asked before helping his friend back up onto the couch as carefully as possible. If Bucky remembered something, he might be able to find the people who were truly responsible for Tony being hurt and make sure they never had the chance to hurt anyone else again.

Bucky sank back into the sofa cushions, exhaling heavily. He pressed his fingers to his temples, massaging lightly. It did little to ease his headache. He didn’t want to talk about the flashes he’d seen, but Steve seemed so insistent that he reluctantly gave in. “I saw people… dying,” Bucky replied hesitantly. “I think… I think I was… killing them.” He glanced up at Steve, his eyes dark and haunted. “But… I couldn’t have… I don’t remember ever hurting anyone.”

Steve’s jaw clenched at the words. He wished that they were true, that the only action Bucky had seen had been in the 40s, long ago and far away. Instead he let out a long, slow breath and ventured, “That might not be true. We don’t know what Hydra might have had you do. You were with them for so long, Bucky… it could’ve been anything. If you’re starting to remember, just let it come. The more we know, the better, even if it hurts.” As the man’s friend, Steve just wanted to tell him to forget it all and try to move on. As the leader of the Avengers, Steve knew they didn’t have that luxury if they wanted to catch the people who had masterminded the attacks on Tony.

Already pale after the attack, the remaining color drained from Bucky’s face as he balked at Steve. “Better? How could me remember doing God knows what possibly be better?” The outburst pained him, but it kept on rolling like a runaway train. “Don’t you get it? If what just happened was a preview, then I don’t want to remember!” He drew himself away from Steve, feeling not only angry but a sense of betrayal. “If Tony Stark was sitting here I’ll bet you wouldn’t be putting him through this.” The words stung, and Bucky promptly shut himself up. Where had that come from? “Steve,” he started, ashamed of his actions. “Look, I’m sorry. Hell, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. No, that’s not true. I do know.” Bucky glanced up, his eyes dark and filled with regret. “I’m jealous. Jealous of the feelings you have for Tony. It’s what I’ve always wanted you to feel for me, but I never had the guts to come out and tell you back then.”

The quiet confession was harder to hear than the yelling, and Steve tried to find the right words to ease the situation. The truth was that Bucky had a point. If things had happened a different way and at a different time, his own reactions would have been entirely different. He’d spent half his youth being in love with Bucky without ever realizing it. But things were different. Despite Tony cutting him off entirely, Steve cared more than he really knew how to express. “It isn’t fair. This whole thing,” Steve agreed with a sigh. “It’s not fair to you or to me or to Tony. It isn’t, and… I’m not helping. Not the way you need me to.” He glanced around the room, at the boxes still littering the space. “I thought things could go back to being the way they were - just us being roomies and looking out for each other, and that was stupid. It’s a different time and a different place. Nothing’s the same. I’m sorry. I… I should get my stuff, get back to my old room. I’m making it worse right now, and that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“No,” Bucky protested, reaching for Steve’s arm. “No, please don’t go.” He shook his head despite the dull ache that had settled inside of it. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to turn on you like that.” Ashamed of himself and feeling more lost than ever before, Bucky sighed heavily and melted deeper into the sofa. “Everybody wants me to remember what happened, but these little bits that come back to me make me not like myself very much.” He glanced up, his eyes filled with sadness. “I mean, look at how I blew up at you,” Bucky pointed out. “I never would have acted like that before.”

“You also never would have told me how you feel,” Steve pointed out gently, allowing himself to be drawn back down onto the couch, where he slumped back next to Bucky with a rueful smile. “Times have changed, and it’s not all good. You said I wouldn’t push Tony like this… and maybe I wouldn’t, not the same way, but not for the reason you think. It’s not because I care more about him, it’s because of who you are. We went through some pretty bad things together even before the War. You can help me now. You can help me find out who did this and how to stop them from doing it to anyone else, and I want you to remember because I want you to get better. With this eating you up, hiding underneath everything, do you really think that can happen?”

Bucky pursed his lips, a pensive expression shadowing his features. “No,” he answered after a lengthy beat. “You’re right; I’m never going to get better if I don’t face this.” Looking just as lost as he felt, Bucky reached out for Steve’s hand. He found the other man’s strong grip solid and reassuring. “But I don’t want to face it alone,” he said softly. “Can I count on you to be there for me? Please, Steve?”

“Every step,” Steve agreed with a moment’s hesitation. “I know how strong you are. I know the stuff we’ve both done and been through - at least some of it. We can do this.” His fingers squeezed Bucky’s carefully. “You just have to remember that no matter what you did for Hydra, it wasn’t your call. They were pulling the strings. All you have to do is remember and tell us what comes and we’ll stop them. Together.”

Bucky felt as if an enormous weight had lifted off his shoulders. He could not have faced any of this alone and, even if he and Steve weren’t together like he wanted, Bucky found comfort in knowing his friend would always been by his side. “Thanks. Thank you, Steve,” he said softly. “I mean it.” Covering Steve’s hand with his own, Bucky offered a gentle squeeze. Even an innocent act such as that brought on a rush of desire. He quickly tamped it down, flushing warmly as he cleared his throat. “So, these boxes?” Bucky indicated them with a slight nod of his head. “We should do something about them, yeah?”

Glad to have a distraction from the myriad worries plaguing him, Steve smiled easily in return. “Yeah.” He didn’t have much. There were a couple of boxes of clothes mostly consisting of outfits chosen by Tony to get him out of his comfort zone of slacks and button downs along with another box of papers and mementos. Steve realized as he and Bucky unpacked the items into his new room that he hadn’t been doing much to settle in anywhere since his return. He glanced over to see Bucky lifting out a picture of the two of them, Bucky’s taller form easily dwarfing him in the shot. “For some crazy reason, the newspapers never want to use that shot in my profiles. Strangest thing.”

Bucky laughed, “Yeah, I wonder why?” He smiled at Steve before glancing back at the picture. “Hard to believe that’s you. Before you got all buff seems like a hundred lifetimes ago.” He smirked at the irony of that statement. “I guess it was. Anyway,” Bucky quickly changed the subject, “It’s difficult to remember anything after getting a look at that new body of yours.” Steve surely wouldn’t mind a bit of harmless flirting, but he gave his friend a gentle nudge all the same. “Say, are there any posters of you shirtless? One would look nice hanging across from my bed.”

Steve glared back at him, but he couldn’t muster any real anger. The truth was that the words sent a flutter of nervous excitement through him. Spending so much time with Tony had eased him into the world of easy, flippant flirtation. It was safe in a strange sort of a way. Glancing back at the picture, he smiled faintly. “It’s funny, it feels like it was a long time ago for you. For me… for me that feels like last week. That still feels normal. This is still the weird part. Sometimes I think I’m going to wake up back in our old apartment.”

“I feel like that myself,” Bucky agreed. “Half the time it’s like I’m wandering around in a daze.” He shrugged his shoulders, at a loss. “It’d probably be a hell of a lot more fun if we were both working off a buzz. Y’know, if we’d been lit up with drugs and all those stories we’ve been handed were a result of that.” Bucky laughed softly, “Ignore me. Talking nonsense helps me make sense of things… if that makes any sense, that is.” 

“Oddly enough, it does. But maybe that’s because you’ve always been a little crazy,” Steve observed with a chuckle. “A buzz doesn’t sound so bad. Unfortunately the whole enhanced metabolism thing means I can’t get one. I could down a bottle of whiskey and…” Steve made a gesture of negation with his hand. “Not in the cards. I’m guessing it probably isn’t for you either until Bruce is sure you’re clean. Since we don’t know everything they gave you, it’s hard to know if alcohol would interact badly.” He could almost feel Bucky’s eyes glazing over and ducked his head. “Sorry. Doing the team leader thing.”

“Hey, I don’t mind,” Bucky was quick to reassure him. “You’re a good leader. Always have been.” His features darkened, and another bout of melancholy settled over him like a storm cloud. “Only wish I could’ve been around to help you.” Bucky had learned all about the Battle of New York while he’d been recovering. It was staggering to think of what had happened, and that his best friend had been front and center during the entire fight. “Maybe if I ever get my head sorted out I could join you again?” he offered hopefully. “Y’know, be like old times?”

Steve beamed at the idea. Fighting alongside Bucky would go a long way toward healing the strangeness of it all. His smile faltered as he thought of what the team might think of it. What Tony might think. “We’ll see. I’d like that,” Steve added hurriedly. “It’s not my call alone. We’re a team. Of course, we’re not much of one while Tony isn’t speaking to me.” He knew the words sounded petulant and stupid, but Bucky had seen him lower than anyone else still living. Unlike most of the Avengers, Steve knew Bucky could see him at his worst as well as his best and still have some respect for him the next day. “I’m not sure how to make him stop hiding.”

Bucky considered that for a moment. It was difficult to hand out free advice when his feelings on the subject were so conflicted. What he wanted to do was press home a small advantage, somehow convince Steve that he did not need Tony Stark, but that wasn't going to make Steve happy. "Well," he started, "you've got two options; either force your way in to see him, or I could find a way to lure him out. Arrange for you two to meet. Lock you together in a room so he can't run away."

Something in Bucky’s tone set Steve’s nerves on edge, but he tried to shrug it off. What Hydra did wasn’t Bucky’s fault. The Winter Soldier was a different person for all intents and purposes no matter what the rest of the team seemed to think. The way much of the team was avoiding him, it was starting to feel like Bucky was the only one truly on his side. 

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Steve allowed carefully, “but I need to handle it myself. I don’t think Tony’s up to seeing you yet.” Most of the team seemed to agree. He remembered the icy stare Natasha gave him when he told her he was going to share a suite with Bucky. “I’m not even sure I can get him to see me. I’m starting to think convincing Coulson it’s a security issue and getting SHIELD to break down the door might be easier than getting close enough to have a civil conversation.” Steve took a deep breath. “Sorry. None of that’s your problem. I guess what I really need to do is stop talking about doing something and go down to the lab and sit outside the door until either I get in or he comes out.”

Even though he already knew the answer, Steve called, “Jarvis, where’s Tony?”

“He’s in the lab, sir,” came the prompt reply. “He has asked not to-”

“Not to be disturbed. Right. I know the drill. Tell him I’m coming down anyway.”

“Sir-”

“Tell him.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Steve hadn’t known until that moment that a computer could sound so pissy. He rubbed his forehead with one hand. “This is not gonna be pretty.”

 

Steve stood in the hallway for a solid five minutes before he got the courage to rap on Tony’s door. He expected to be ignored. At best he expected to be yelled at for breaking Tony’s policy of shutting out the world. At worst he’d expected Natasha to jump him as soon as he started downstairs and break his neck. Instead he stood alone outside the lab hoping he could coax Tony into some kind of conversation.

Tony had been trying to keep himself busy. Constantly busy, in fact. Anything to stop him from thinking too long. He had completed work on a new prototype armor and started on upgrading its weapons system. Having given specific instructions he was not to be disturbed, Tony glanced up with irritated surprise at the sound of a knock at the door. His first instinct was to simply ignore it, then he realized it might be Natasha, and Tony thought better of it. If he didn't answer, she would find some way past the security locks and that would not be pleasant. Abandoning his work for the moment, Tony padded across the room and answered the door. "You don't have to keep checking on me," he was saying mid-stride, only to stop, the blood draining out of his face when he realized his guest wasn't Romanoff.

Steve felt a rush of relief at the sight of the man. Just hearing his voice felt good on a level Steve hadn’t expected. He wanted to grab Tony and hug him, maybe even kiss him - and in that moment Steve realized just how far gone he was on Tony Stark and how horrific his timing was. “I’m not Nat,” he offered apologetically instead, “but I’ve been trying to check on you. I’ve been trying since we got back, and every time…” The longer he stared - and he couldn’t seem to do anything but stare and try to drink in every detail he could - the more Steve realized that Tony looked dead on his feet. The man looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, and he stank of sweat and booze. “How long since you left the lab, Tony?”

Tony knew he looked exactly how he felt: like hell. And he couldn't even bring himself to be bothered about it. "I don't know, it's been a while," he answered in a monotone. Turning away, Tony returned to the work bench and tried to lose himself in the project again. He hoped Steve would take the hint and see he didn't want company. It was incredibly difficult being in Steve's presence. It was constant reminder of how his reckless attraction for the other man had led to him being humiliated and violated in the worst way possible, and it made Tony want to scurry toward the nearest available whiskey bottle.

“Yeah, I got that feeling.” Steve stepped in closer. He watched Tony work with a relentless certainty on something he couldn’t identify. There was something beautiful about watching the genius work even though Steve didn’t know the first thing about what Tony was doing. “I’d offer to help, but we both know that’s useless, so instead of me helping you with that,” Steve gestured to the pile of parts, “how about I help you get upstairs to your room?” The unfortunate double entendre caught up with Steve a second later. “I mean… I just mean you should get some rest, Tony. I’m worried about you. I’ve seen you go on a few work benders, but this isn’t healthy.” More than anything, Steve wanted to pick the man up, sling Tony over his shoulder and get him upstairs. “Just… talk to me, at least.”

"There's nothing to talk about," Tony sighed with a dismissive wave of his hand. Unfortunately the gesture caused the computer schematic he had been trying to concentrate on to fly across the room. "I know it's strange that an exceptionally charismatic guy like me is at a loss for words. Hard to believe, right?" Tony honestly didn't mean to be so short and discourteous to Steve. The other man meant well, but this was something Tony could not talk about or deal with, possibly ever. In fact, the only time he managed to blot out the memory of what had happened was in the bottom of a bottle.

Steve gritted his teeth together and counted to ten before he tried again. Tony was hard to deal with at the best of times. Yelling wouldn’t help even if Steve knew he might feel better doing it. The aftermath wouldn’t be worth it. “You’re sorely mistaken if you don’t think I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of this room. Killing yourself isn’t going to make you feel better any faster.” After a moment of thought, he reached out and rested a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Talk to me, Tony. I know I can’t make it go away, but I can listen.”

At Steve's touch Tony could feel his resolve beginning to crumble. It was a subtle breaching of the wall he'd erected, the crack spidering outward. Tony, barely holding it together already, visibly shuddered as the emotional weight of everything he'd been trying to forget threatened to cripple him. "What do you want me to say?" His voice was little more than a whisper. "That I relive that moment every time I close my eyes? That the only way I can forget is drinking myself blind? Or... or how I can't even look at you and remember...?"

“Me?” Steve felt his heart sink at the words. He’d certainly blamed himself for letting Tony get taken, but it hurt a lot more to think that Tony saw him as nothing but a reminder of being attacked. Shoulders slumped, Steve gave a slight shake of his head. “I don’t want to hear that, but if it’s what you’re feeling, then… then somebody needs to. I’d like it to be me.” He managed a wavering smile. “I miss you.” It wasn’t the time or place for a bigger confession, but Tony needed to know that Natasha and Clint weren’t the only ones looking out for him. “Somewhere along the way the time I spent with you started being the time I look forward to most. I hate not talking to you even if what we need to talk about’s not all that pleasant.” Still applying gentle pressure to Tony’s shoulder, Steve tried to lead him over to a couch littered with papers. “So let’s talk.”

Tony felt himself beginning to crack. The pressure of keeping everything bottled up inside demanded to be released. Despite Tony's best efforts to the contrary, the words spilled forth, breaking through the emotional dam like an onrush of water. "Okay, we'll talk," he agreed, his shoulder shuddering beneath Steve's touch. "What topic should we tackle first? How I was kidnapped? That's a good one. Or how I screamed out your name when your buddy was fucking me? Because that's what I did. That's what I wanted... for it to be you."

Steve didn't trust himself to speak for a laundry list of reasons in that moment. "I... they pulled me out of the room. I didn't know that..." The dark implications of it hit him. Drugged or not, Tony definitely hadn't been in a position to say yes. Sinking down to sit beside Tony on the couch, Steve took the man's hand gently. It hurt to think the next words he needed to say, let alone speak them. "He raped you. And then I went on like everything was fine." Suddenly Tony's cold shoulder made perfect sense. "I can't... I can't blame Bucky for what happened, but please believe that I would never, ever ignore you when you need me. When you wouldn't see me... I didn't know why." A new layer of guilt settled on his shoulders as Steve stroked his hand. "I just knew how much I wanted to be here with you."

Tony hadn't been prepared for Steve to be so understanding and nice about the whole thing. He half expected his colleague to be disgusted, or at least too uncomfortable to continue talking. But the man out of time remained by his side, offering comfort which Tony did not think he deserved. He eased his hand away from Steve's gentle touch, getting on his feet again and moving toward the window. "Was it even rape? I keep asking myself that," Tony said softly. "Yeah, I was drugged, but I thought it was you the entire time. And I wanted you. So, does that make it count?"

It hurt to think that Tony blamed himself, that he thought a momentary lapse of judgment or awareness made him culpable somehow. Steve closed the space between them again, unwilling to let Tony close him off. He knew how badly Tony needed someone even if he didn’t want the comfort. “Look at me. Tony, please,” he whispered, waiting until the man turned before reaching up to touch his stubbled cheek. Steve’s breath caught at the bold contact. He wished that the circumstances were something totally different. Once he realized his feelings, Steve had begun to entertain idle fantasies that once Tony recovered they could do things right with dinner and dancing or a movie at home. 

“If it helped… if it made it hurt less… if thinking it was me made it easier for you, then I’m glad, but I need you to know that… that no matter how much I want you, I would never hurt you.” Steve’s stomach twisted into a knot, but he didn’t let himself back down. Instead he brushed a chaste kiss to Tony’s lips and tried not to look as utterly terrified as he felt. Tony was skittish, and if the kiss was the wrong thing to do, Steve knew he might have months of a withdrawn billionaire to look forward to. The thought of hurting Tony by trying to help him weighed heavily on Steve’s mind as he waited, barely breathing, to make sure Tony was okay with what he’d done.

Tony drew back in surprise. This was not how he'd imagined things would go. His analytical mind did not allow for errors, and Steve's actions threw the proverbial wrench into the works. It took Tony a moment to gather his thoughts, to process what had just happened. "What are you doing?" he asked softly. "I was chained down, drugged, and being fucked by your presumed dead best friend. And all the time I wanted it to be you." Tony shook his head in disbelief, even as his lips tingled from the kiss. "Why did you do that?"

“Because I want to,” Steve answered, still uncertain of how Tony was taking the gesture. He could see the wheels turning in Tony’s dark eyes. “What happened… it happened to you. You didn’t choose it. If I could go back and make it not happen, if I could be awake to protect you instead… I’d give anything to fix it.” As badly as he wanted to grab Tony and hold him close, Steve held back, giving Tony his space. “All I can do is tell you that I should’ve said something sooner. I should’ve let you know that I’m crazy about you. I think maybe it started that night at the fundraiser. I’d never really let myself think about it, and once I started to… I know this is the worst time to tell you and maybe the worst way. I just know things might’ve been different if I’d told you in the first place. You deserve to know how much I care about you.”

Surprises weren't exactly among Tony Stark's favorite things unless he was fully aware of the surprise in advance, of course. And this day was turning out to be just full of surprises. "Better late than never, right?" Tony quipped, the beginnings of a smile threatening to quirk his mouth. "So, you caring about me and all... does that mean no more pissing contests when we're being manipulated by alien technology? Because I rather enjoyed that."

Steve grinned at the words because he knew what they meant. If Tony was up to kidding around, he was letting his guard down at least a little. “I said I care about you - I didn’t say you aren’t still the biggest pain in the neck on the team. And that’s counting the big guy.” Almost shyly, Steve held out a hand. “Maybe it’s doing things a little backwards telling you I like you then making a move, but do you think maybe I could take you out sometime for a real date?”

A little of the warmth in Tony's brown eyes returned. Despite his best intentions to the contrary, he was allowing Steve to break through the wall he'd erected. If he'd had it his way, then Tony would have spent the rest of his days in this room drinking himself into oblivion. Having convinced himself that Steve would outright reject him, Tony could not help reeling from how open and accepting the other man was. Still, a part of him hesitated; the thought of stepping out into the real world again filled him with dread. "Would you mind if we just had dinner here?" he asked softly, taking Steve's offered hand.

Steve beamed and threaded his fingers through Tony’s. “I’d be honored. I’ll even cook if you’d like.” He wasn’t a master chef, but Steve enjoyed cooking, and he doubted Tony got a home cooked meal often unless it was one of the nights where someone got a yen to make dinner for the team and invited everyone down. “The only thing that matters to me is the company. Dinner’s just an elaborate excuse to spend time with you. We’ll do whatever you’re up for. Whatever we’re both up for.”

Tony thought about that for a moment. Being alone in a room with Steve qualified as leaping over an enormous hurdle. His former self-assured attitude still seemed long forgotten, and it made the billionaire feel as naked as a newborn. He didn't like it, not one bit. "Dinner's about all I can handle right now," he admitted. Glancing down at his fingers intertwined with Steve's, Tony felt a fluttering in his stomach and the first sign that everything might be okay illuminated itself. "You mind if clean up and make myself a little more presentable?" he asked self-consciously.

“Absolutely.” Steve’s phone buzzed, and he reached for it without letting go of Tony’s hand only to frown at the name there. Coulson didn’t generally call without a reason. “You get a shower, get dressed, I’ll meet you in the kitchen in an hour, okay?” He couldn’t resist brushing a quick kiss against Tony’s forehead. “I guess to do that you’ll probably need both hands.” Reluctantly Steve let Tony’s fingers leave his own. Already he missed the touch. “I… yeah. I’ll see you in an hour.” He was blushing by the time he ducked out of the lab again, but already the world felt like it might be a little closer to alright.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mild violence in this chapter. Please avoid it if you're bothered by such things. Though why you would be reading this story in that case is somewhat beyond me.

It was a little below the belt having Jarvis keep an eye out and let him know when Steve was away from the room, but being a spy meant working that way sometimes. Coulson knocked firmly on the door and waited. They needed to know that Barnes was safe - and that, by extension, Steve was safe. It wasn’t a pretty job, but it was an important job. Coulson and Fury had both agreed that Barnes alone was more likely to say something revealing than Barnes in front of Steve ever would. 

Bucky wasn't in the best of moods. He had watched with silent helplessness as Steve left to try and talk with Tony. It had been especially painful considering that his own feelings did not seem to matter. That angry spark of jealousy Bucky thought he had extinguished threatened to ignite again. And it scared him. He didn't want to be angry with Steve and do anything to jeopardize their friendship. He didn't want to go back to that dark place he had been lost in. Bucky's train of thought mercifully derailed at the sound of a knock at the door. He shook his head as if to clear it before moving to answer it. "Oh," he started, finding Agent Coulson on the other side. "Coulson, right? Uh, come in."

“Yes. Thank you,” Phil added as the man stepped aside to let him in. “I apologize for the lack of notice, but… well, to be honest, I wanted to speak with you while Captain Rogers was otherwise engaged. I want to discuss what you’ve been through, and the more your memory comes back, the more likely you are to remember things you may not be comfortable discussing around him. You may display symptoms that are similarly… distressing, shall we say.” Coulson took a seat at the kitchen table and gestured for Bucky to join him. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who isn’t a friend. You can’t disappoint the expectations of a near stranger.”

Bucky frowned. It was a sore subject and one he wasn't comfortable talking about - not even with Steve. Despite his wariness, Bucky padded across to the table and took a seat. "I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you," he started. "Because I still don't remember anything." It was the truth. Besides a few flashes here and there, Bucky's memory amounted to a blank slate. "Steve's been trying to help, but all I get are headaches."

"I'll see if I can get you something for those." He'd seen the look on Bucky's face at the question. "It's not just about memories. It's about you. Thoughts, behaviors... anything different, good or bad. No judgment, I just need to know."

Bucky found himself taken aback by the questioning. Poking into the shadows of his mind, looking for even the slightest clue of that period of his life that remained a blank frightened him. "Well," he started, with a hint of uncertainty, "I guess you can say I've been a little bewildered." Bucky sighed, affecting a half smile. "The last thing I remember is falling to my death, and then suddenly I'm here. It's all a little too much to take in."

"I'm sure Captain Rogers understands that feeling well." Coulson returned the smile. "I also imagine there are benefits to not knowing, but you and I both know that none of us are going to be safe until we know what Hydra has planned. Right now you're our best link to that." He hated pushing too hard, but they needed the secrets locked in the man's head and to know that he wasn't a threat.

The mere mention of Hydra set something off deep inside of Bucky. It was like touching a raw nerve ending, shocking his system. For a brief moment the dark fog clouding his mind lifted and Bucky was no longer himself. His whole demeanor changed in that instant, his jaw hardening and his body tense with hatred. He leaped from his chair, grabbing Coulson by the throat and slammed him against the nearest wall.

Despite the man’s larger bulk, Coulson’s instincts were solid. He brought up knee up into Bucky’s stomach and, when his grip loosened slightly, ducked out of the hold. As he straightened again, Phil brought out a taser and held up a hand. “This thing can take down the big green guy. Now might be the time to think about calming down.” Despite his tie being disheveled from the hold and his posture being tense, Coulson sounded calm in the face of the apparent danger. “Mr. Barnes, I need you to think about what you’re doing right now.”

Bucky's blind rage gradually faded. When his senses returned, he blinked as if waking from a dream. Instead of being seated at the table, he was on his feet. Agent Coulson stood right across from him, aiming a weapon at him. //What the hell...?// Bucky raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender. "Hey, look... I don't know what just happened, but I'm not going to give you any trouble." No sooner had he gotten the words out of his mouth than Bucky was hit by another migraine. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his head in his hands. The pain crippled to him to the point where he fell to his knees.

Coulson sheathed the taser at once and moved to the man’s side. He was damn good at reading people. Even Natasha could only fool him about half the time. Barnes wasn’t faking it. He put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Breathe. Slow in, slow out. Can you stand up? I’d like to help you to the infirmary now.” Even if Bucky attacked him again, Coulson knew it was vitally important to get him treatment. For all he knew physical pain was as good a trigger as anger. He didn’t particularly want to find out. “We need to get you looked at.”

Coulson's voice seemed to be coming down a tunnel. Bucky could barely concentrate on anything thanks to the stabbing pain in his head. He was vaguely aware of being moved, which only seemed to exacerbate his condition. Confusion filled his very soul, while an overwhelming instinct to kill everyone around him struggled to take control. "If you... don't get... away from me," Bucky fought to warn Coulson. "I... will... hurt... you..." Although he couldn't control the impulse - let alone understand it - somehow he knew the agent was in serious danger.

Coulson sighed. “No, you won’t.” He reluctantly pulled a syringe from his pocket and slipped the needle into Bucky’s flesh and blood arm. Within moments the man’s body slumped against him. “Sorry about that, Mr. Barnes,” he whispered before calling for another agent to help him move Bucky safely to the infirmary. It would have been easier to get a feel for his condition with Bucky awake, but it was dangerous. 

Bruce drifted in a few minutes after the doctors began their work. “It’s more than just the drugs. What they did to him goes deeper than that.” Coulson watched the men working and the face of the man on the gurney still twisted in pain. “I hope we can find a way to bring him out of it.”

Bruce sighed and absently began cleaning his glasses on the tail of his shirt. “Me too. For Steve’s sake if nothing else. I heard some chatter. Was it as bad as they said?”

Tipping his head, Coulson showed off the bruises forming on his neck beneath the starched collar of his shirt. “It was bad. Without my training, he wouldn’t have had any trouble.”

“Bad, then.” Bruce sighed again. “Really bad.”

 

Coulson remained at the man’s bedside while he slept off the drugs. He hoped that whatever Steve and Tony were talking about took awhile. For one thing Tony needed the company, for another he didn’t want to worry Steve before they knew anything at all. 

Bucky drifted in and out of consciousness. He felt as if he was floating outside of himself, lost in a shadowy mist. Struggling to find something solid and real to hold onto, Bucky reached out and blindly grabbed onto the nearest thing he could find. Unbeknownst to him, he had wrapped his hand around the arm of Agent Coulson. Bucky woke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed. "Where am I?" he asked, his eyes darting from side to side urgently.

Coulson covered Bucky’s hand with his own and gently eased it away. “You’re in the infirmary. I’m afraid I had to give you something to calm you down. Do you remember what happened back in your quarters?” He doubted it. The look on the sergeant's face had been confused at best when he “came to” the first time. 

Bucky frowned, his features a mask of confusion. His gaze searched the room, taking in his new surroundings with an air of nervous uncertainty. Something about waking up in an infirmary set him on edge. Bucky couldn't explain the feeling, but it made him want to flee all the same. "I... remember you came to talk to me, and..." He trailed off, struggling to remember. Trying to retrieve even the slightest bit of memory caused Bucky great discomfort, and he grimaced with the effort.

Coulson put a hand on the man’s arm and gave a slight shake of his head. “You don’t have to force it. It will come back to you or it won’t. It seems that Hydra may have left you one or two extra presents to deal with. There triggers… we aren’t clear yet as to whether it’s blood pressure, key words, adrenaline… So you may have to stay in here for a day or two while we try to pinpoint it.” He pulled his collar down slightly so that Bucky could see the bruises forming on his neck. “I hope you can agree that might be for the best at the moment.”

Bucky grimaced at the sight. He averted his eyes a moment later, shamed by his own actions. "I'm sorry," came his murmured apology. Bucky found himself growing increasingly frustrated with the entire situation. He couldn't trust himself to be around anyone. A word or an innocent action might trigger him to become a mindless killer. Bucky would never be able to live with himself knowing he'd harmed someone. Of course he'd already committed countless atrocities being under Hydra's control, but now that his identity was back, things were different. "Maybe... I should leave?" he said softly. "I'm too dangerous to be around."

“And wandering the streets randomly would be safer.” Coulson didn’t allow the words to become a question. There was no question as to the foolishness of the thought process, but he knew Bucky needed to hear it out loud. “Captain Rogers would never forgive me if I let you leave, and we have plenty of tranquilizers and tasers. You’re safer here, and so is the rest of the world. Until we find out how to undo everything Hydra did, you should be here.”

Bucky could not argue with Coulson's logic. SHIELD had the resources to handle his particular problem, even if Bucky did not like the idea of being put down like a dog whenever he acted up. "Okay, you've convinced me," he begrudgingly admitted. "I'll stay." Sometimes Bucky had the impression that SHIELD just wanted to use him. What would happen when he remembered everything about Hydra and SHIELD no longer had any use for him? "Besides, I doubt Steve would even notice if I did leave," he murmured half to himself.

Coulson pointedly ignored the self pity. “You haven’t spoken to the rest of the team much, but I doubt it’s a surprise to you to hear that they aren’t particularly thrilled to have you in the tower. You don’t remember what happened with Stark, but they do. They’re not bad people, but it’s hard for them not to hold it against you.” He waited a beat for the words to sink in. “Given that, Captain Rogers has still spent almost every waking moment when he’s not on duty with you. He moved rooms to be close to you - despite what the rest of the team, Stark in particular, might think about that.” Coulson raised his eyebrows and smiled faintly. “Are you sure he wouldn’t notice?”

Again, Bucky glanced away. He didn't like how easily this Agent Coulson could make him see how wrong his ideas were. Still, Bucky very much doubted that Steve would mind his absence. "Honestly? I don't know," he answered softly. "Steve's got... other things he's focused on." And it was Bucky's own fault for encouraging his best friend to pursue Tony Stark. He gave a slight shake of his head as if to clear his thoughts. "How long will I have to be in here?" he asked, glancing around the room with a mixture of uncertainty and apprehension.

“With luck, not long,” Coulson answered. He saw the look on Bucky’s face and allowed, “I know your luck hasn’t been particularly fantastic so far. They want to run a few tests, see if they can find anything obvious, and then I’m hoping they’ll be willing to release you into-”

“Bucky? What happened?” Standing in the doorway, Steve looked tense despite having finally gotten through to Tony. Seeing the text from Coulson had sent his pulse racing.

Coulson stood, ready to offer the chair next to the bed to Steve. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. There seem to be a few triggers left in place.”

“Triggers?” Steve’s brow furrowed, then he caught sight of the bruises just above Coulson’s collar, and his eyes went slightly wide. “Are you-”

“It’s nothing. I’ve had significantly worse.” The words were the honest truth, and he certainly didn’t want to make Bucky feel worse than he already did. “He wasn’t in control, and I’m not taking it personally.”

Steve didn’t look so sure, but he crossed over to the bed anyway and tried to smile. “How are you doing?” He didn’t know what Coulson or anyone else had been obligated to do to keep Bucky down. 

Bucky, genuinely surprised to see Steve, perked up a little. "I'd be a lot better if you could spring me out of here," he answered honestly. A part of him was desperate to ask Steve how things had gone with Tony. He could easily lose his best friend to the other man. Then Steve would forget about him and Bucky would be left all alone. That sparked dangerous thoughts in his mind, thoughts of somehow getting Tony Stark out of the picture permanently. But Bucky quickly dismissed such reckless ideas. It frightened him how quickly violent notions entered his head. Realizing he'd zoned out for a moment, Bucky added with a light tone, "I think I've had enough migraines to last a lifetime."

Steve smiled back, expression sympathetic as he took the seat Coulson had vacated. The man slipped away as if he’d never been there, though Steve knew after spending so long at the tower that he would be somewhere nearby. “I’ll see about that. Think Captain America gets to pass out any get out of jail free cards?” Steve reached out and took one of Bucky’s hands even though it didn’t seem like he was in any immediate danger. It still felt better. “I should’ve made you come in after that headache you got this morning.”

Bucky glanced down at his hand in Steve's and felt a nervous flutter in his chest. "It's not your fault," he murmured, meeting the other man's gaze again. "Apparently saying the wrong word sets me off. I don't even remember what happened, but your Agent Coulson handled himself pretty well." A pang of guilt made Bucky hastily add, "I'm just glad I didn't hurt anyone."

“Me too,” Steve agreed solemnly. He thought of what Tony had confessed and felt the taste of bile in the back of his mouth. Bucky Barnes was the best man he’d ever known, and he was beyond furious over what Hydra had done to him. “If they don’t let you out… I mean, I was supposed to, uh… to see Tony tonight, but we can reschedule.” The idea of doing that made him feel like the worst potential boyfriend in the world. The idea of not doing that made him feel like the worst friend in the world. “I want to make sure you’re okay, Buck.”

Bucky managed a little smile. "Well, I feel okay when you're around," he replied. As badly as he wanted to keep Steve to himself, his words were true. Steve helped keep him grounded while everything else in the world made little sense. A frown shadowing his features, Bucky leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "How well do you trust these people?" He glanced around as if he could still be overheard. "Are you sure they're not going to get rid me once they learn everything locked inside my head?"

Steve respected the other man enough to think it through before he answered. “I don’t trust everyone, but I trust my team. I trust Coulson. If I’m not close, I’ll make sure he is.” When it came to SHIELD, Coulson was one of the few agents who didn’t make him feel like he was being continually assessed as a threat. “You’re not going anywhere. I don’t want you worrying about that part. Just hang in there for me, okay? We’ll find a way to make this better.” 

"Okay, for you I can try." Bucky averted his gaze. The close proximity made him want to kiss Steve, and he knew that would lead to disappointment. Instead he concentrated on the situation and the cause of his distrust. "It's weird, but I keep getting this feeling someone's gonna lock me in a room and do all kinds of experiments." He sighed deeply, then went on, "I mean, Coulson already thinks words are triggering my... attacks. What if they start to poke and prod me to see what makes me jump?" Bucky gripped Steve's hand tighter. "I don't think I could live through that."

“I’ll talk to him. Maybe there’s some less invasive ways for them to look for things? If it’s more mental, maybe there won’t be many physical tests at all.” With Bucky so on edge even talking could be dangerous, but they had to start somewhere. As long as there were agents on hand to make sure he didn’t hurt himself or someone else, it would probably be fine. “I’ll point out to ‘em that you look better as not a pincushion. Scout’s honor.” 

Hearing that brought out a warmer smile from Bucky. He felt more confident and less worried once Steve voiced his support. "I'm gonna hold you to that," he said jokingly. Steve had never been one to break a promise, and Bucky had no doubt that his best friend would see to it he had the best possible care. He gazed at the other man for a long moment. There was so much to say. Not wanting to pry, but curious all the same, Bucky asked softly, "How did things go with Tony?"

Steve had frankly been scared to bring it up himself, but he beamed when Bucky did. The fact that things had gone well with Tony had him all but walking on air. He wanted to share that with his best friend. “He agreed to let me cook him dinner tonight. He’s… what happened still has him upset. He thought I’d blame him.” The idea still made Steve’s gut twist, and he could barely look Bucky in the eye for a moment. “It was bad. It’s probably going to be bad for quite awhile. I want him to meet you, the real you, but I…” Steve looked up with a rueful smile. “I think it’s gonna be a long time before he’s ready for that.”

Bucky frowned, then stared over Steve's shoulder with a faraway expression. Something at the back of his mind clicked and, in a flash, he saw Tony Stark writhing beneath him, begging to be fucked with a raw need that was almost frightening. He blinked and gasped, trembling slightly as he shook his head as if to dislodge the vision. "Yeah," Bucky agreed shakily. "I don't think I'll ever be ready." It was probably for the best if he and Tony never met face to face. Things were difficult enough. "If you're gonna be busy tonight, does that mean I'll have stay here?"

“It means that as soon as they’re willing to let you go, Agent Coulson will get you back to the suite. I don’t want you stuck in here.” What had happened to Bucky wasn’t his fault, and even if the suite wasn’t exactly freedom, Steve wanted Bucky to at least feel comfortable. “This whole thing, it’s gonna take a lot of getting used to for everybody, but we’re going to figure it out. You’re still my best friend.” Seeing him shaky and uncertain disturbed Steve. Bucky had always been the most solid, stable person in his life. “You’re used to fixing everything for everybody, but right now you’re the one who needs help. Let us take care of you.”

Bucky appreciated the sentiment, although in his heart of hearts he wished it was Steve and Steve alone taking care of him. It felt like crossing a line to insist the other man cancel his date and stay with him instead. It was definitely tempting, but Bucky resisted the urge. That wasn't like him, and he did not want to turn into that dark part of himself insisting he do terrible things. "I'm grateful for everything you've already done," Bucky said, brimming with genuine sincerity. "I think most people would've written me off as a lost cause."

Steve arched an eyebrow. “I’m going to try really hard not to be offended, but it almost seems like you just came close to implying that I would ever be ‘most people.” He stared hard at the other man and then gave Bucky’s hand a squeeze, his expression fading into a broad, warm smile. “I’m here for you, and I’m not the only one.” Now that he understood the reticence of the rest of the Avengers to even attempt to know Bucky, Steve wondered whether it was a wall they’d ever be able to climb. He wanted his best friend back. They wanted to punish the man who’d hurt Tony. Steve couldn’t say that he didn’t want that too, he just knew, knew to the very bottom of his heart, that Bucy wasn’t responsible. He was a victim too. “Give it time.”

"Lucky for me, I have a lot of that on my hands," Bucky replied, returning Steve's smile with a soft grin of his own. He hated himself for feeling jealous, for wanting to keep Steve all to himself. The more he pushed, the needier he acted, the further away Steve would go. Taking a breath, Bucky reluctantly waved his best friend on his way. "I promise I'll be a good boy and behave," he said. "But, only if you promise not to worry about me and have a nice time." Saying that was painful. Bucky hid it well though, adding, "Maybe Agent Coulson will drop by and keep me company."

“He will.” Steve didn’t note that it would have as much to do with duty as anything, but it didn’t really matter. The truth was that Coulson was a good guy. He’d made it clear in their conversations that while he didn’t like any part of what had happened, he also didn’t hold Bucky personally responsible. That was a bit leg up over most everyone else. Steve supposed it had a lot to do with the man’s affinity for all the strange tales surrounding their mutual heroics in the war. “Rest. Relax. Maybe do some reading. Lately I feel like no matter how fast I take things in, I’m never gonna catch up.” Steve couldn’t help pausing to give Bucky’s hand a warm squeeze. “I’ll see you back at the suite. Not leaving you here long enough for you to get used to the smell of industrial cleaner.” He drew away only because he knew if he didn’t get on it, he’d never be ready for his date. It was a big chance, a big step forward, and Steve didn’t want to mess it up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We were due for a bit of fluff. Have some fluff!

Steve couldn’t remember ever having spent quite so much time staring at his closet. He made it a point to look nice whenever possible, but it was different wanting to look good but not too good, casual but not too casual. Finally Steve chose a pair of dark jeans that Natasha had insisted he buy in the store in addition to his usual slacks and paired it with a blue button down. Knots of nervous energy twisted in his stomach, but Steve made his way to the kitchen on mostly steady legs. Finding it still empty, Steve took a moment to start getting some ingredients together. The more he had to do, the less he would think of how terrified he was that Tony might not even show up.

 

In fact, Tony had almost backed out several times. Every time he tried to convince himself having dinner with Steve was a bad idea, he reminded himself of how open and caring the other man had been. Tony could not disappoint him. So, he showered and cleaned himself up for what felt like the first time in ages. Looking a little more like a billionaire playboy and less like a vagrant hobo, Tony dressed and slipped on one of his favorite rock and roll T-shirts before stepping out. It did not take him long to make his way to Steve's apartment. Tony wished the journey had given him enough time to dismiss an uncharacteristic bout of nerves. He stood in front of Steve's door for a good five minutes, breathing and gathering his composure. Finally he reached out and knocked, clearing his throat at the same time. "I hope dinner's ready," Tony called out, "because there's a drop dead handsome man waiting to eat."

 

His stomach twisted, but Steve couldn’t help but grin at how normal Tony sounded. He sounded like himself. Steve ran a hand through his hair again before going to the door. Given that he was actually waiting for the door to open instead of having Jarvis just open it for him, Tony really was taking this seriously. Steve opened the door with a wide smile. He supposed it had everything to do with a shower and a shave, but Tony looked better too. “Hi. You look great.” Nervous and excited and horrifically terrified of doing the wrong thing, Steve almost forgot to step aside. “Come on in. I just got started - Italian okay?”

 

"Okay? That just happens to be my favorite." Tony paused as he stepped inside, glancing toward the ceiling. "Jarvis, you haven't been divulging all my secret to Captain Rogers, have you?"

 

"Of course not, sir," Jarvis' clipped tone answered, "only those you've deemed suitable for me to share."

 

"Well, that's all right, then." Tony clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Something smells good in here, and I'm going to assume it's the food and not me." He flashed a knowing grin at Steve before making a beeline for the kitchen. The delicious aroma was heavier there, and Tony cast an appreciative eye over Steve's effort. "You really did all this for me? It's been a long time... well, maybe even longer... since anyone's gone to this much trouble." Tony leaned forward and asked Steven in a soft, playful voice, "You wouldn't be trying to seduce me, would you?"

 

Steve blushed furiously, and even though he knew that was precisely what Tony had intended for him to do, it didn’t make it any easier to find the words to flirt in return. He didn’t really answer, just flashed Tony a smile and went back to stirring some sauce on the stove. “I gotta admit, it wasn’t that much trouble. I’m not a ‘make the noodles from scratch’ kinda good cook. This is more heating and assembling than cooking.” He nodded toward the oven. “I guess the garlic bread almost counts. There’s the spreading butter, the putting on the garlic… pretty complicated for an old guy.”

 

Tony felt that Steve had gone to a hell of a lot more trouble than that, and he wanted the other man to know how much he appreciated the effort. "Not too shabby for an old guy," agreed Tony. "I can't remember the last time I consumed anything that wasn't 100 proof." The painful reminder of barricading himself against the whole world was not what they needed for the night. Tony quickly banished the memory and flashed Steve a warm smile. "I can't exactly guarantee I won't be making a pig of myself. A stunningly gorgeous pig, but a pig all the same."

 

“I think I can handle that. With my metabolism… well, let’s just say I’m not a dainty eater. Pretty sure being in the army didn’t help that any.” Steve was surprised to find that he felt relaxed, not tense in the face of what they were doing. It was a date. A real one. And that was shockingly, inexplicably fine. Steve couldn’t help casting shy glances up at Tony every chance he got. Even tired and raw and a little rough around the edges, Tony still looked fantastic. “Speaking of drinking, uh, I don’t. It doesn’t do anything for me, and I didn’t think about wine or anything. Hope you’re okay with something a little less festive for the night?”

 

"Perfectly fine," Tony assured him. "I'm sure my liver will be grateful for a break. It was probably lining up a lawsuit, thinking I was attempting to pickle it." His stomach rumbling, Tony took a step out of the kitchen to allow Steve a chance to finish his preparations. He watched the other man busying himself, and felt the need to express something he'd been thinking about all day. "Steve," Tony began, "I never did get a chance to thank you. If you hadn't insisted on seeing me, I'd probably still be hiding in my room drinking myself to death."

 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Steve answered earnestly. “Knowing what I do now, I’m just sorry I didn’t do it sooner.” He wondered how much pain he could have saved the both of them by simply barging into the lab a week earlier. While he gathered plates for them both, Steve confessed, “I was worried that you’d be mad at me for moving rooms. I guess it’s stupid, I knew you wanted space, but I… I think I slept better when I was closer to where you were,” he admitted, blushing faintly.

 

"You know, you're kind of insanely adorable when you blush," Tony lightly teased before he segued into serious mode again. "No, you did the right thing. If you had stayed, I probably would have found some way of running you off." He’d been in the worst possible condition for keeping friends or accepting comfort, but Steve had burst in and shook more than a little sense into him. "And it's not stupid and you deserve to know how grateful I am."

 

Not used to Tony being serious, it took Steve a second to process the words and the quiet sincerity behind them. He blinked and then found a smile that warmed him up from the inside out. “I’m grateful you’re here. I’m grateful we’re getting a chance.” He was even grateful that he still had Bucky, even if the man was hurt and broken and had a long way to go before he would recover even in part. Glancing around at the apartment, he shrugged. “It’s going to be interesting. It’s still new. We just got set up, and… well, it’s new.” Given Bucky’s tentative mental state, Steve had no idea what it would be like sharing a space - even if it wasn’t so much sharing a whole space as having a common area with their own separate bedrooms and bathrooms. “Haven’t roomed with anybody since Buck and I were kids. Of course, then it really was rooming together. No suites, no privacy.”

 

Steve rooming with Bucky bothered Tony more than he cared to admit. There was no jealousy, but he feared for Steve's safety. Unstable did not even begin to describe Bucky Barnes' condition. Although Tony had been loathe to delve into the background of the man, a part of him wanted to understand more about Bucky. "Just promise me you'll be careful," he told Steve somberly. "I know you're capable of looking after yourself, but I don't trust what he may or may not do."

 

Steve sighed as he started plating up dinner. “I will be, but if something’s going to happen, I’d rather be the one here. I can handle it better than just about anybody else.” Of course, Coulson had handled himself just fine, but Steve wasn’t really looking to get Tony worried all over again by describing the incident in detail. If Coulson wanted to disclose anything, he could do that on his own. Steve set Tony’s plate down with a bright smile and took the closest seat. “Like you said, I can look after myself. I’ll be just fine, Tony. Honestly.” For a moment, he slid a hand over Tony’s, his heart fluttering at the casual contact, “Thank you for worrying, though.”

 

The warmth of Steve's touch was welcoming, putting Tony even further at ease. He felt more like himself around the other man. Tony could not help but wonder if his recovery might have gone more smoothly if he'd simply let Steve take care of him. "Well, I'm your official worrier from now on," he announced, making it clear he would hear no argument. "You've worried enough about me, not it's my turn to return the favor."

 

Steve arched an eyebrow at the thought. “Hmm, well, I guess you have had a few years to watch Pepper,” he decided. If Tony couldn’t learn proper worrying technique from her, he was out of luck. Steve tucked into his food with a feeling of warmth suffusing his mind and heart. “I know it’s going to sound a little cheesy, but there’s not a single place I’d rather be than right here with you.”

 

Tony smiled, affecting that casual show of charming arrogance he was well known for. "But of course," he said. "You're sharing a meal with amazing company." Stabbing his fork into the steaming plate of food before him, Tony took a bite and marveled at the taste. "This is delicious," he enthused. "Aren't you just full of surprises? Hell of a fighter, easy on the eyes, and you can cook. You're just about perfect."

 

Steve turned red and ducked his head. “It’s nothing fancy,” he insisted, manners winning out over modesty as he added, “but thank you. I just… I wanted this to be nice.” Of course, Tony had a point. Considering the company, he didn’t think the food could matter enough to make him not enjoy the moment. Steve smiled and nudged Tony’s foot under the table. “It’s not easy to impress a guy that owns the building you live in.”

 

Tony swallowed another mouthful, and then reached for a piece of garlic bread. "True. But, if I didn't know you and you cooked a meal like this, I'd hire you as my personal chef." It took a hell of a lot to impress Tony, and he appreciated Steve's effort more than he could ever hope to express. Cleaning his plate was a good place to start. "Tell you what: you keep pampering me like this, Captain Rogers, and I might never want to leave."

 

“In that case, you get as many home cooked meals as you want,” Steve answered with a broad smile. It was hard to believe they’d actually taken the step from light flirtation to actual dating, especially given the circumstances. He briefly closed a hand around Tony’s, then let the contact go so that they could both eat. “My mom taught me to cook when I was little. A lot of stuff around the house I couldn’t really help with, but that didn’t involve a lot of heavy lifting.”

 

Tony sobered, seeing a shadow covering Steve's eyes. "You miss those days, don't you?" he asked softly. Steve had lost so much that it amazed Tony the other man was as well adjusted as he appeared to be. Tony could not even begin to imagine himself in Steve's shoes, waking up to find the world that he'd known no longer existed. It made him admire Steve all the more, while it also made him feel ashamed over locking himself away instead of facing what had happened.

 

It took a little thought for Steve to find the answer, but eventually, he shook his head. “I miss my mom. I miss things with Bucky when it was just us out in Brooklyn, but I don’t miss being just this side of dead most of the time and not…” Again Steve fought to find precisely the words he wanted to describe it, his fork idly scraping a pattern into the sauce on his plate. “I couldn’t do what needed to be done. No one would even let me try. I might miss people and places and some good times, but I can’t say I’ll ever miss being useless.”

 

"Well, I can't imagine you ever being useless," Tony said, offering Steve a meaningful half smile. Even though he had familiarized himself with Steve's records, and knew all about him before he had been injected with the super soldier serum, Tony found himself impressed with the man before he ever became Captain America. Determination, compassion, and a fierce sense of justice were things that could never be bottled. "In fact, I think you're selling yourself short. From what I can see, you've been pretty amazing since day one."

 

Steve smiled back, the corner of his lips quirking upward. “You might feel a little differently if you’d met me back then, but… thank you. I can’t say I ever did anything like graduating college before most people hit high school, though. You aren’t the only one who’s done some file reading. All that stuff I said when we met? I was wrong. Really, really wrong.” 

 

Although the evening had initially been arranged as a means to get Tony back into the land of the living, it was turning out to be the best date he ever had. "Well, the mystic sceptre of doom didn't help with first impressions," Tony pointed out. "Thank you, but I was wrong about you too." He sat back in his chair, cleared his throat and proposed, "How about we start over? Hi, I'm Tony Stark, and you are?" he offered his hand, his eyes warm and welcoming.

 

“Steve Rogers.” Reaching out, Steve closed his hand around Tony’s and couldn’t help grinning right back. Messy as their first meeting had been, he wouldn’t really have scrubbed it for anything. Both of them had walked in with preconceptions about each other. Without the animosity, they might never have broken those assumptions down. “I’m glad I thawed out soon enough to get a chance to meet you.” 

 

"You're very well preserved, Mr. Rogers," Tony grinned, "if you don't mind my saying so." The easy banter and the warm atmosphere of being in Steve's company made Tony feel more alive than he had in ages. He could not imagine returning to his room and drowning himself in misery. Not after tonight. Tony Stark was officially back in the game. He would bear the scars of what had happened for the rest of his life, but he refused to let the painful memories rule him any longer.

 

Though he blushed furiously at the compliment, Steve smiled. “I don’t mind at all.” Hearing Tony flirting and teasing made him feel like they might settle into something like normalcy with time. The feeling of peace made Steve bold enough to venture, “I was thinking maybe after we eat, we could watch a movie or something? I understand if you aren’t up for it, but… well, to be honest, I kind of don’t want the evening to be over too early. I’ve missed you.”

 

Tony warmed at the idea. He was enjoying himself in Steve's company and he hated for the night to end. "Sounds good," Tony enthused. "Have you caught up on any recent films, or do you prefer the classics?" He couldn't imagine what Steve might make of modern day movies, with their CGI and high definition widescreen. "Me, I'm more of a Bogie and Bacall kinda guy." Tony reached over and covered Steve's hand with his own, offering a gentle squeeze. "And just for the record? I've missed you, too."

 

Not bothering to hide a broad grin at the reply, Steve suggested, “Maybe we meet in the middle? Clint keeps telling me I ‘lack culture’ because I haven’t seen Star Wars yet. He said I’d like it. I have my doubts about taking Clint’s word for it, but Natasha didn’t disagree, so I’m cautiously hopeful.” Normally if Clint was outright lying or trying to pull one over on him, Steve could count on a discreet nod or signal from Natasha that he should give up listening to whatever nonsense Clint was spouting. 

 

Tony's warm brown eyes lit up at the prospect. "You, my friend, are in for a treat," he promised. Anxious to get started, Tony finished up his dinner and offered to help clear away the plates. "Get the TV warmed up and I'll make us some coffee." Tony could not help but notice the dessert sitting on the counter. Even after eating a full meal, he found himself hungry for more, and he felt a sense of giddy schoolboy excitement over spending the evening curled up on the sofa with Steve.

 

Normally Tony reserved his bouncing excitement for technological breakthroughs and the possibility of getting his hand on alien tech, so Steve wasn’t sure whether to be comforted or horrified at his sudden jittery pleasure. Still, he gave a shake of his head and drifted into the living room. It had taken him a few sessions with Natasha patiently explaining everything step by step, but Steve had finally made peace with the complicated web of tech that made up the entertainment unit. He navigated the menus with deliberate ease. 

 

Tony returned with fresh coffee and dessert on a tray. "Ready to have your mind blown?" he teased Steve, easing down close to him on the sofa. "I can promise you've never seen anything like Star Wars." The movie always brought out the kid in Tony, and he could not wait to see Steve's reaction to what he considered to be one of the best films of all time.

 

“If nothing else, I think it’s a guarantee I’ve never had better company at a movie.” Steve was mindful to give Tony his space. No matter how relaxed the man seemed, Steve knew what he’d been through now. He’d seen the cracks in Tony’s normally flawless armor, and he wanted to avoid at all costs doing anything to make him retreat again. Even with those fears, however, Steve couldn’t miss the spring in Tony’s step and the gleam in his eyes. The excitement was infectious, and Steve happily sipped his coffee as the opening scrawl played across the screen.

 

It felt good to relax. Tony had been on edge and well on his way to becoming a reclusive drunk. Now it was as if he could take on the whole world again. His gaze ticked between the action on screen and Steve's reaction. Tony ached to be close to the other man, and before he realized what had happened, he'd inched closer and tentatively draped his arm across Steve's broad shoulders. "Is this all right?" he asked softly. Despite his renewed confidence, Tony was still a little unsure, and he didn't want to make a wrong move after Steve had been so patient and understanding with him.

 

“It’s perfect,” Steve answered with a smile. He’d been scared to make a similar overture himself, worried about pushing too fast or making Tony feel awkward. The last thing he wanted was to make Tony run for the hills when they were having such a nice time. True to Tony’s assurances, the movie was a lot of fun. He’d sat through a few movies with the rest of the team that were violent or sexual enough to make him more than slightly uncomfortable on a variety of different levels. Some things didn’t need to be shared in a group. Their feature for the evening, on the other hand, recalled something more classic in tone. “This is really good - the movie, I mean.” Steve had to admit that the warmth of Tony’s body against his side and the man’s arm around his shoulder were both high points in favor of the night as well.

 

"See, I told you," Tony murmured close to Steve's ear. He hadn't been entirely sure if he would ever feel comfortable being intimate with anyone again. Tonight proved he could, that a little cuddling wouldn’t send him scurrying back inside of his shell. Steve's solid, muscular form felt wonderful against him, and Tony could not help but smile. "If you think this one's good," he added, nodding at the TV screen, "just wait till you see the next one."

 

“Maybe we can do this again tomorrow?” He knew it was probably too much too soon, but Steve couldn’t help wanting to spend as much time as possible with Tony. Now that they were on speaking terms and, more than that, had something like the potential for a real future ahead of them, Steve was eager to keep Tony close. “If you don’t have other plans. Maybe in your apartment next time?” Steve knew that Bucky would probably be home sooner rather than later. He also knew Tony wasn’t ready to deal with that on any level. 

 

Tony did not have to think twice about the suggestion. "I'd love that," he enthused, flashing Steve a warm smile. "I'm afraid cooking from scratch is one of the few things outside the scope of my genius, so you'll have to make another fantastic meal. Or we can always order in." Either way Tony would be content in Steve's company. He felt a sense of relief wash over him that the evening had gone so well. Indeed, he and Steve had already made a second date and the night wasn't even over yet. Tony knew that the other man was being cautious due to his current state, and the billionaire appreciated Steve more for his kindness.

 

“Let’s do that. Pizza or Chinese or… I don’t care. I care about the company, not the food.” Steve let his arm tighten for a moment around Tony’s waist as the credits rolled. He honestly hated for the night to end, but it was getting late. Things were going so well that he honestly felt like he was tempting fate. At any second, Steve was sure that somehow, some way it was all going to fall apart. He swallowed the thought down and smiled at Tony instead. “It’s not an exaggeration to say I’ll be counting the hours. Maybe we could meet up in the main kitchen for breakfast tomorrow?” He wondered if Tony would even be up for the possibility of seeing the rest of the team, but getting him out and about would make that feel normal again a lot more easily than hiding in the lab.

 

"If we do, you have to promise to stop being so damned irresistible." Tony wore his best poker face. He found it difficult to maintain what with Steve's infectious smile making him feel like a giddy teenager. "You make it difficult to think about anything besides you." Tony cracked a grin, unable to suppress the desire for long. "I would like to think my magnetic presence and blinding good looks has kept you in a similar state."

 

Steve laughed easily and nodded his agreement. “It actually has. It had before I really realized just how far under my skin you’d gotten.” The moment felt charged, and Steve wondered how much it would be appropriate to say or do. They had spent too much time not speaking freely with one another, so Steve admitted, “I don’t want to push too much. I really don’t want to scare you or mess this up or do anything that’s going to mean we don’t do this again. So, um, would it be okay if… if I kiss you?”

 

The question was so heart-achingly sweet it could only have been asked by Steve Rogers. It warmed him to know Steve had no intention of rushing things. Given the time Steve grew up in, it should not have been surprising. "There are so few gentlemen around these days," Tony commented, inching closer. "I think a kiss would be the perfect way to round out this perfect evening." More nervous than he cared to admit, Tony reached up and caressed Steve's flushed cheek with his fingers. Then, gently and tenderly, he leaned in a pressed a soft kiss to Steve's inviting mouth.

 

Steve’s breath caught. He froze for a moment with the shock of the moment. He hadn’t been sure that Tony would say yes, and after that he’d been even less sure about what move to make and how to proceed. As usual Tony had taken the guesswork out of things by manhandling the situation to suit himself. For once that was a definite asset. Steve let out a shaky breath and melted into the kiss. It was sweet and almost chaste, and Steve was grateful for that, not eager to be out of his depth too soon and show off precisely how out of practice he was in the art of romance. 

 

Although Tony had fantasized about kissing Steve too many times to count, nothing could have prepared him for the bliss of the real thing. Steve's lips were soft and warm, his mouth sweet and inviting. Tony could have easily lost himself right then and there. A huge part of him wanted to forget about the idea of returning to his suite. It seemed foolish to leave when everything felt so right. The rational part of his brain not clouded with reckless thoughts reminded him it was too soon. Tony contented himself with the kiss, cupping Steve's handsome face in his hands as he deepened the contact.

 

By the time he needed to take a breath, Steve’s heart was pounding, and he could barely force himself to stop. It helped that Tony didn’t seem to have a lot more restraint. He wasn’t scared, just smiling and a little breathless himself. Steve rested his forehead against Tony’s. “That is definitely something I could get used to doing on a regular basis… y’know, if you don’t mind.” 

 

"Yeah..." Breathless, Tony found himself at a loss for words. "Mind? No, I don't mind. In fact, I would be deeply offended if you weren't interested in more."

 

Steve couldn’t help grinning in response and tugging Tony into another kiss. It was soft and gentle, a promise without words. “In that case, I think we’ve officially come to an agreement. If he wore bolder or Tony was less fragile, Steve would have been sorely tempted to ask Tony to stay the night even if only to curl up together and stay close. Instead he offered, “Can I walk you back to your room?”

 

"Why Captain Rogers, you really are a gentleman, aren't you?" Good natured mirth danced in Tony's warm eyes as he smiled at Steve. They climbed off of the couch and headed out with some reluctance. He gave Steve a gentle nudge before linking their arms together. "Lead on." 

 

When they reached the door, Steve couldn’t quite resist. He shifted his arm out of Tony’s and cupped the man’s cheek. Even with his stomach doing flips, he mustered the courage and pressed a gentle, easy kiss on Tony’s lips. The small gestured left him smiling. “Sweet dreams, Tony.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Clint weren't meant to feature in this fic as more than background. We happen to be in love with them, though, so things happen. Enjoy our lack of focus!

It wasn’t as if he would have said no to any coworker in trouble, but Phil Coulson wasn’t too proud to admit that he never would have said no to Steve Rogers. So when the man stopped into his office and asked him to keep an eye on Bucky and to get him out of the infirmary as soon as possible, he took the request seriously. Honestly Steve seemed to work hard at not being a burden to anyone most of the time. Even when most people would have been screaming for help, he preferred to deal with his own problems. If he was reaching out, Coulson was happy to do what he could. 

He gave Bucky a bit of time and space before making his way back to the infirmary. As usual he had a pile of paperwork to get through, and besides that, he doubted Bucky was feeling entirely happy at the news that Steve was spending his night out with Tony. “Mind a little company?” Phil inquired as he shifted the curtain to one side.

"No, I don't mind," Bucky answered, unable to hide the dark cloud brewing above his head. The truth of the matter was that he needed a distraction, someone to keep him company and to prevent him from doing anything stupid. He loathed being helpless and unable to be with Steve, and that had led him to a series of dark thoughts he'd rather forget about. "Steve says he's gonna put in a good word for me," Bucky made an attempt at small talk. "Spring me outta here."

“He’s got the wheels in motion. As it turns out, even SHIELD isn’t all that good at saying no to Captain America,” Phil answered as took a seat next to the bed. “They still want to keep you overnight. Observation. It’s standard protocol, and it seemed like a good idea.” He had no idea whether Bucky knew Steve was currently in their shared suite making dinner for Tony, but he knew that Bucky passing through in the middle of it was a bad idea on a few dozen different levels. “In the meantime, it seemed cruel and unusual to leave you with no one to talk to.”

"Did you draw the short straw?" It was meant lightly. Bucky imagined there weren't that many SHIELD agents lining up to babysit him, and he honestly could not blame them. After all, he was an unstable time bomb waiting to go off. "I still don't remember anything," Bucky confided, “so there's not a whole hell of a lot of questions I can answer." A sudden wave of boyish shyness came over him, and he apologized, "I'm sorry. Guess I'm not the best company in the world."

“No need to be sorry. I don’t think many of us would be in better shape after going through what you’ve been through. Actually, I’d wager that we might be a lot worse off.” No matter how much blame everyone else was levying against Bucky, it was clear he had pulled plenty of guilt onto his own shoulders. “The truth is, Captain Rogers asked me directly if I’d keep an eye on you. Even if he hadn’t, I would have volunteered before it came to drawing straws. For one thing, I think it’s unfair to blame you for something that was done to you. For another, well… I assume that Captain Rogers has been too kind to mention it, but I was a bit of a fan growing up. Not just of him, but of the Howling Commandos. I’ve known who you were since I was a kid.”

Surprise lit up Bucky's features. Barring Steve, he had not expected anyone to want to talk about those long ago days. His mind flashed back to grainy images of barbed wire and mud, the deafening sound of artillery and the smell of blood. Just as quickly, Bucky found himself back in the infirmary with Agent Coulson. "We would've been dead ten times over if Steve hadn't dragged our asses out of the fire," Bucky said in a faraway voice. "If anyone deserves admiration, it's Steve... not me."

“I beg to differ,” Coulson answered mildly. “From what I’ve read, at least, I don’t think that it’s likely Captain Rogers would have managed most of what he did without having the rest of you fighting with him. You did everything he did, and you did it without the serum. That’s not a contribution that should be ignored, Sergeant Barnes.” With everyone focusing on the negative acts in his recent past, Coulson knew that it was probably difficult for even Bucky to think of the bigger picture. “You saved a lot of lives too. Hold onto that.”

Bucky found himself taken aback. He hadn't expected such an earnest response and staunch defense of his character. "You're awfully nice to someone who tried to throttle you," he said with good humor. "I'll take your word for it. Arguing with you wouldn't be a good idea. I know you've got it in you to put me down." That was putting it mildly. Bucky hadn't known what hit him, and Agent Coulson had made it perfectly clear he could take care of himself.

“I do,” Coulson agreed calmly, “but if it helps, I’d rather not. I prefer talking to you. Besides, if I took it personally every time someone took a shot at me, I would have put Agent Barton six feet under a long time ago. In this line of work, it helps not to hold too many grudges - even against yourself.” Changing tracks and hoping to lighten the moment, Coulson smiled. “They’re going to have to update the Captain America display at the Smithsonian. It identifies you as the only one of the Howling Commandos to die in the line of duty. Maybe we can give them a happier ending now.”

Memories of those times seemed like yesterday, not decades ago, and it perplexed Bucky that Agent Coulson viewed him as some kind of hero, especially considering he'd been accused of horrible crimes he couldn't properly remember. Still, he mustered another faint smile and thanked Coulson for the thought. "As long as I'm not asked to make a speech or anything. I'll leave that to Steve. He was always much better at it."

“I know he didn’t care much for it, but he was the right man for the job addressing the public and being the face of our forces.” Coulson had eventually managed to get over any sense of hero worship enough to have some real conversations with Steve. He’d been surprised to find how ambivalent the man’s feelings were about some of his work during the war. It had been less surprising the more he saw Steve in action and the more he realized that despite the man’s natural charisma, he preferred being useful to being a figurehead. “I suspect that you’re more capable than you give yourself credit for, but I understand that facing the public may not be your first instinct right now.” He hesitated and then ventured, “I can guarantee you’ll be in some SHIELD-ordered therapy for awhile, and your psychiatrist may not agree with this, but in my experience, hiding isn’t the way to get through it. Putting yourself out there is.”

Everything Agent Coulson said made perfect sense. Indeed, it made Bucky wonder why he'd ever doubted himself in the first place. His argument was very persuasive, and Bucky could not help but wonder if this might be part of his therapy. "Well, when you put it that way," he conceded softly. "I'm beginning to see that it's useless to feel down about myself around you." Bucky even managed a hint of a smile, but that turned into another shadowed frown when he glanced down at the metal which had replaced his arm. It was a painful reminder of all the time he had lost. "I don't suppose you guys can do anything about this?"

It was a simple enough question with an unfortunately complicated answer. “We can absolutely see about a replacement.” Coulson hesitated and then finally admitted, “The man who can do the best job in making sure it’s something you’re comfortable using is Tony Stark. He isn’t our only option,” the man hurried to assure, “but he’s the best. I’ll put the word out to some of SHIELD’s people to start working on some options. I’d suggest having people sign it like a cast in the meantime, but given the collective maturity level around here, I think that might result in more inappropriate Sharpie drawings than you’d really like.”

Bucky gave a small grimace at the mention of Tony Stark's name. Although he remained in the dark over exactly what his attack on the billionaire had entailed, Bucky wasn't keen on asking Stark for a favor. He feared there would always be bad blood between them. "I think I'll just stick with this, then," Bucky decided. He glanced distastefully at the metal arm. "This is going to sound crazy," he confided in Agent Coulson, "but I wondered if maybe this," he lifted the replaced limb, “was causing me to black out and attack people."

“It might not be helping,” Coulson finally allowed, “though we haven’t found signs of any malicious technology. Once we have a proper replacement that will work on at least a temporary basis, we’ll do more extensive testing.” He’d seen the way Bucky flinched at the sound of the man’s name and left off the fact that he hoped Tony would be the one heading up the examination. Hopefully his excitement over the tech would overwhelm his distaste for the man the arm belonged to. “I was thinking that it might help if you saw someone in the mirror who was a little more familiar. Once you’re cleared, a haircut and some new clothes might do you a world of good. Looking like the you that you remember might make you feel more like him too.”

"Maybe." Bucky wasn't entirely convinced. He hated what he saw the mirror; a former shell of himself scarred and haunted by past deeds he could not remember. Bucky somehow doubted a haircut and a change of clothing would erase all that. Still, he appreciated Coulson's suggestion. He found himself glancing around the room, feeling as if the walls were closing in. "I don't know what is it about places like this," he confided, meaning hospitals in general. "It makes me feel... like something bad's about to happen." Bucky's stress level grew along with a seemingly never ending paranoia that everyone was plotting against him.

“It could be what you went through with Hydra,” Coulson allowed, “or it could be that you have enough sense to know ending up in medical is rarely a good thing.” He hated the place himself. Every time one of his assets ended up there with something broken or torn or bleeding, he hated it a little more. “I meant it when I promised Captain Rogers I’d get you out of here as soon as possible. In the meantime, so far you don’t seem to have that altered a metabolism, which means that if you’d like something to help you sleep, that won’t be a problem.” 

Bucky perked up at the sound of that. "I could definitely use a sedative; a powerful one, if at all possible," he enthused. Sleep had proved to be an elusive beast, and in the rare moments when he drifted off, his slumber was far from restful thanks to horrible dreams. He believed that if he could manage several hours of uninterrupted sleep, he would feel a lot better. "I haven't slept much," Bucky confided in Coulson. "The strange thing is, I don't feel tired."

“Time will tell how much of it you need now. It’s going to take SHIELD a long time to sort through what’s been done to you from a genetic standpoint. The main thing now is to make sure that you’re comfortable.” Coulson rose from the seat and promised, “I’ll find a doctor and make sure we get something that will knock you out - hopefully with a little less kickback than what I gave you earlier.” He shared a rueful smile with the man on the bed before slipping away. Barnes had enough problems without adding insomnia to the mix, and Coulson had been around long enough that he didn’t take an isolated attack from someone who’d been mind controlled particularly personally. He arrived with a syringe and a smile. “Say the word, and you should be getting at least a solid eight hours.”

Bucky instinctively flinched at the sight of the needle. His brow furrowed while his expression darkened and beads of sweat glistened on his skin. He tried to concentrate on Coulson's friendly smile, but his vision blurred and the image wavered. Like a bad television signal phasing in and out, everything before Bucky had drowned itself in static. One minute Coulson was standing there, and the next a surgical masked doctor stood in the agent's place. Bucky shut his eyes tight, but all he could see was the Hydra symbol in his mind. He didn't want to go back there, he didn't want to remember. "Wait... stop," he pleaded with Coulson. "I... don't know what's happening... I don't want to hurt you..."

The syringe was set aside in a heartbeat, and Coulson took a seat, removing himself from a position of dominance so that they were on the same level. “Just breathe.” It was comforting to see that Barnes was picking up on the cues that meant he was on the edge of an episode. It meant that control might not be as far away as anyone had feared. “Listen to my voice.” Once he saw the stuttering breaths slow somewhat, he reached out and placed his hand gently over Bucky’s. “No one here is going to hurt you, Sergeant Barnes. Just stay with us.”

Bucky tried to focus on Coulson's soothing voice. Every instinct in him screamed to tear the place apart, along with anyone who might be in his way. He breathed heavily, shaking as he struggled to regain control. Instead of sending him over the edge into a psychotic hurricane of violence, Coulson's touch comforted Bucky, and he felt himself beginning to calm down. "Thank... thank you," he managed, sounding as if he'd run a marathon. "I... think I'm... okay now..." 

“And you’ll get better.” They were making more progress than he’d honestly hoped to have made so early in the process. It boded well for finding a way to put the attacks off altogether. It seemed that they were brought on as much by stress as anything. It wasn’t as simple as a few words. The conditioning combined with what he suspected was a deep dose of PTSD had created a more complex web of issues. “We’ll keep working on it until you are. For now, would you like me to see if they’ve got something in pill form to help you sleep?”

"No," Bucky said with an emphatic shake of his head. "I want to try the injection." If he did not conquer whatever was triggering these episodes, he would remain in his own personal hell forever. "Besides, I doubt pills would have any effect on me." That was an understatement; Bucky was convinced nothing short of an elephant tranquilizer would have any sort of effect on him.

“We’ll see. This dose was formulated by Dr. Banner, so I’m willing to wager it will pack a punch.” Despite Bucky being calmer, Coulson still approached carefully. He made sure that the man knew where he was and what he was doing each step of the way until he was able to carefully slip the needle beneath the Bucky’s skin. He breathed a sigh of relief when the transaction went off without a hitch. “There we go. Would you like me to stay until you’re out?”

"No," Bucky replied, easing back into bed. "I'll be okay." Miraculously, he could already feel the injection working its way through his system. "Just... need.... some sleep... that's all." His eyes growing heavier with each passing second, Bucky exhaled deeply as darkness welcomed him into its embrace. In what seemed like no time at all, he had drifted off into a restful slumber.

Relieved that the man was getting a little rest, Coulson checked in with the nurse before heading out into the hallway. He paused just outside the door and smoothed a hand over his suit. “You can come out now,” he said in the direction of the ceiling. He should have been annoyed by Clint constantly following him. It had been going on since he woke in medical after the attack on New York to find the agent dozing in a chair nearby. Despite the fact that SHIELD had wanted him quarantined until he was cleared for duty, Clint had snuck away, crawled through the ducts, and ended up in the medical wing with Coulson. Since then it had been a continuous thing to find Clint lurking in the ceiling or otherwise shadowing him. He should have been frustrated, but instead Coulson found it oddly comforting and more than slightly flattering that Clint cared so much. “Want to grab a coffee?”

"Yeah, and maybe a little something stronger to go with it." Clint should have known from the start that Phil would be able to detect his presence. No matter how adept he might be at his profession, there simply was no concealing himself from Agent Coulson. "Before you say anything, I'd just like to reiterate I know you're more than capable of taking care of yourself." Clint fixed the other man with a steely look, his brow furrowing as he added, "But I'm not leaving you alone with someone as dangerous as him."

“I think you overestimate the danger,” Coulson answered even though he didn’t quite believe the words. Bucky Barnes wasn’t a danger. The Winter Soldier, on the other hand, was a definite X factor. “I appreciate your letting me take care of things back at the suite.” He suspected Clint had been along for the ride at that point too. “I think an arrow to the knee might have escalated that situation beyond what was necessary.”

"I never overestimate anything," Clint countered. "If the situation had gotten out of control, Bucky Barnes would have found an arrow in his chest." He made it clear he was not playing around where Phil's safety was concerned. Clint glanced over his shoulder, giving the infirmary doors an uneasy look. "I wish they could find someone else to babysit."

Coulson led the charge to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee before he observed, “They could find someone else. I could hand him over to a junior agent and be done with it, but Captain Rogers asked me to look after him, and honestly I think a friendly face will do more good right now.” He could see the lines of tension in Clint’s shoulders and the set of his jaw. “Besides, how much trouble can I get in when you’re watching over me?” Coulson gathered up two mugs, some creamer, and a pot of sugar. “Speaking of which, you don’t actually have to do that. It’s... “ He searched for the right words to convey how he felt and finally admitted, “It’s comforting, actually, but you don’t have to do it.”

"No, I don't have to," Clint replied, lifting his eyes to meet Coulson's gaze, "but I want to, and I'm going to keep right on watching your back." No argument from Phil would dissuade him. As far as Clint was concerned, Bucky Barnes was a constant danger to Coulson and everyone within the building. Unstable and a match for Cap were a recipe for disaster. Why Phil felt the need to take responsibility for the Winter Soldier baffled Clint. He could only surmise it was out of some misguided loyalty to Steve. A small shake of his head, and Clint reached for a flask he always carried. "Here, I'll bet you could use a little of this, too." He poured some of the contents into his mug, followed by Phil's.

Normally he would have protested, but he was technically off the clock - as much as anyone ever managed to be in the tower - and ready to relax. Besides, Clint hadn’t exactly asked before dumping it into the coffee, and he wasn’t about to waste the precious caffeine after such a strange day. “Thank you.” Coulson leaned back against the counter and watched as Clint sipped the drink. It was rare to have a moment of peace and quiet. “If you’re shadowing me, should I assume that Agent Romanov is following Stark?”

"That would be an affirmative," Clint replied, gazing over the rim of his mug as he took a sip. "We figured it might be a good idea to keep an eye on him. He's been through hell, and you never know if he'll suit up and look for a little payback." Tossing Coulson a reassuring wink, Clint added, "No worries. Stark seems to be doing better. At least that's what Nat says, and I trust her opinion." Indeed, from all of her reports it seemed Cap had turned out to be a good influence on the billionaire. Clint hoped that Tony's recovery meant one less thing to worry about.

“According to Captain Rogers, he agreed to a date.” The whole thing still sounded a little surreal, but it was good for both of them - at least Phil hoped it would be. “Given that Sergeant Barnes is still in medical for at least the night, I don’t foresee that going badly.” Someone with Steve’s rather old fashioned sensibilities wasn’t likely to try to push Tony any farther than he was comfortable with under any circumstances, let alone the ones in which they found themselves. “Barnes wants the arm removed. Well, replaced,” Coulson amended. “He’s not comfortable wearing Hydra tech, and I can’t blame him.”

Clint gave that a moment's consideration. Then, he agreed, "Me neither." He slugged back the rest of his drink in one go, relishing the slow burn of whiskey down his throat. "Can it be replaced? It would be just like Hydra to attach something that won't come off." Clint saw himself as being realistic about the situation. He very much doubted Bucky Barnes could be saved, one way or another. "I wish I could be more optimistic," he added, setting his empty mug aside. "Right now all I can see is one hell of a liability."

Coulson arched an eyebrow and stared evently at Clint. “I remember Fury saying something very similar about you once upon a time. Some people are worth the extra effort,” he cautioned. He understood precisely what Clint was saying, but that didn’t mean he intended to give up on Barnes. The man had been through hell and lived to tell the tale. “As for whether the arm can be removed, I don’t know. I’d like to ask Stark to consider the problem, but that… doesn’t seem like the most diplomatic solution. I’m thinking someone from SHIELD might be better suited. Someone less personally involved.”

"Yeah, that would probably be a good idea." Clint could not even begin to imagine how awkward it might be involving Stark. Then again, if anyone was going to replace a high-tech prosthetic arm, there was no one better to oversee it than Tony. "You could *try* asking Stark, I suppose," he suggested guardedly. "Who knows? He might say yes for Steve's sake." It was the very definition of a long shot, but Clint had seen crazier shit happen.

Coulson answered with a faint smile. They both knew better. Steve could get Tony to do things that no other human being on Earth likely could, but that didn’t make him a miracle worker, or at least not enough of one to facilitate quite so drastic a resolution. “I’ll try asking him. In the meantime, I’m thinking of talking to Fitz. He’s young, but he’s bright, forward-thinking. He’s honestly the best bet after Stark.” The fact that Fitz didn’t have any entrenched thoughts about how he approached problems would leave him free to be more creative in solving Bucky’s particularly unique issue. “Assuming we can keep Barnes from strangling him.”

"Please tell me you're joking," Clint said, sporting a world-weary frown. Phil had a penchant for jibbing him with deadpan humor. Clint would have normally appreciated the attempt at levity. But his main focus of worry was Bucky Barnes doing exactly that: going berserk and killing someone. "Because if you're serious about bringing in someone fresh, we're both going to have our hands full keeping Fitz safe." 

Seeing that the joke had fallen flat, Coulson sighed and tried again, “I’m serious about bringing in someone fresh, but I don’t think that Barnes is a direct threat to him. Obviously we’ll keep an eye on them, and there will be procedures in place should things get out of hand. I don’t expect them to. If anything, over time, I expect outbursts like what happened today to become more rare. Even soldiers who don’t go through the severe, mind-altering processes that Sergeant Barnes suffered come back with PTSD. We would be doing him and ourselves a disservice to treat him differently and deny him help because of what he’s been through.”

Clint raised his arms in mock surrender. "Alright, alright," he said, submitting to Coulson's unwavering assessment of the situation. "I'm not going to argue when you take all the fun out of it. Damn you and your reasonable logic." He lowered his arms and fixed the agent with a serious gaze. "You've spent more time with Barnes than anyone but Steve. If you think he'll be okay, fine, but I intend to keep an eye on him." Clint glanced upward with a hint of a smirk. "Even if it means crawling around in the ceiling."

“I appreciate that,” Phil agreed readily. He trusted that Barnes really did want to do what was best, but he also knew that Hydra had made it as difficult as possible. “I don’t want to treat him like he’s on death row, but we need to be careful for his sake, for Captain Rogers, for Stark. There’s a lot on the line for the team, and it will benefit all of us if we do everything in our power to make it work. For the moment, he’s sleeping. I think it would be in our best interest to get some rest too.” 

"Sounds good," Clint said, feeling the weariness of keeping constantly alert seeping into his bones even after a jolt of caffeine. The stuff was more comfort than stimulant anymore. It had been a long day, and being on edge for so long left the expert marksman more exhausted than he cared to admit. "I'm going to need my rest if I'm going to keep an eye on Fitz for you." The whole idea of bringing someone in to help Barnes made Clint uneasy. He just hoped his own dire prediction of what might happen did not come to fruition.

Seeing the look on Clint’s face, Phil offered gently, “I understand your concern, Barton. I really do. I just think there’s a bigger picture and a bigger mission. I think we owe Barnes a chance. Go get some sleep. You can go back to crawling through the ductwork in the morning.”


End file.
